There she sat, as stately and composed as though we
had never heard that odd-sounding cough, from which her throat must
have been even then sore and rough. Kind, gentle, shabbily-dressed
Mrs Forrester was immediately conducted to the second place of
honour--a seat arranged something like Prince Albert's near the
Queen's--good, but not so good. The place of pre-eminence was, of
course, reserved for the Honourable Mrs Jamieson, who presently
came panting up the stairs--Carlo rushing round her on her
progress, as if he meant to trip her up.
And now Miss Betty Barker was a proud and happy woman! She stirred
the fire, and shut the door, and sat as near to it as she could,
quite on the edge of her chair. When Peggy came in, tottering
under the weight of the tea-tray, I noticed that Miss Barker was
sadly afraid lest Peggy should not keep her distance sufficiently.
She and her mistress were on very familiar terms in their every-day
intercourse, and Peggy wanted now to make several little
confidences to her, which Miss Barker was on thorns to hear, but
which she thought it her duty, as a lady, to repress. So she
turned away from all Peggy's asides and signs; but she made one or
two very malapropos answers to what was said; and at last, seized
with a bright idea, she exclaimed, "Poor, sweet Carlo! I'm
forgetting him.
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