Lady Glenmire played Preference to admiration, and was a complete
authority as to Ombre and Quadrille. Even Miss Pole quite forgot
to say "my lady," and "your ladyship," and said "Basto! ma'am";
"you have Spadille, I believe," just as quietly as if we had never
held the great Cranford Parliament on the subject of the proper
mode of addressing a peeress.
As a proof of how thoroughly we had forgotten that we were in the
presence of one who might have sat down to tea with a coronet,
instead of a cap, on her head, Mrs Forrester related a curious
little fact to Lady Glenmire--an anecdote known to the circle of
her intimate friends, but of which even Mrs Jamieson was not aware.
It related to some fine old lace, the sole relic of better days,
which Lady Glenmire was admiring on Mrs Forrester's collar.
"Yes," said that lady, "such lace cannot be got now for either love
or money; made by the nuns abroad, they tell me. They say that
they can't make it now even there. But perhaps they can, now
they've passed the Catholic Emancipation Bill. I should not
wonder. But, in the meantime, I treasure up my lace very much. I
daren't even trust the washing of it to my maid" (the little
charity school-girl I have named before, but who sounded well as
"my maid"). "I always wash it myself.
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