Entrance of the Bad Girl of the Family, without her apron this time, and divested also of the potato and the bone-hafted knife.
"Mary, child, my spectacles."
The Bad Girl dived desperately in the inmost recesses of the chiffonnier; found Grandmamma's spectacles, and prepared to withdraw in something of a hurry. But she was detained.
"Has Jane returned, child?"
"Yes, Granny."
"Ask her to have the goodness to bring some tea for Lady Shelmerdine."
"Oh, not for me, thank you."
"You are quite sure?"
No. 88 Grosvenor Square, the corner house, was quite, quite sure. Exit the Bad Girl of the Family without daring to look once in the direction of the Braided Morning Coat that was still leaning up forlornly against the chimney-piece.
"Mrs. Cathcart," said the Governing Classes, getting the first gun in action, "I have done myself the honor of calling upon you—"
"The honor, madam, is entirely mine," Edward Bean's goddaughter assured her.
"—because of a most unfortunate state of affairs which has just been brought to my notice."
The goddaughter of Edward Bean looked sympa-
