This arbitress of fashion, this dictatress to society, was a woman of no particular face, no particular figure, no particular dress, and no particular conversation. But she was well aware of her position, and made use of it accordingly.
Mrs. Derrington, whose whole morning had been one long thought of the Cotterells (whenever she had a new thought she always pursued it à l’outrance) said something about the party of last night.
“Were you there?” asked Mrs. Prideaux.
“Oh! no. Mrs. Cotterell has come among us so lately, I know not exactly in what circle she will be.”
“You might have gone,” said Mrs. Prideaux, “I intend calling on her.”
“Do you, indeed?” exclaimed Mrs. Derrington, with glad surprise. And Sophia’s face brightened also; for she longed to know the Cotterells, and she saw that all doubt was now over.
Miss Waterly and Miss Milkby now acknowledged that they had both been at the party, and that they had liked it.
“When do you make this call, my dear Mrs. Prideaux?” asked Mrs. Derrington.
“I have not exactly determined on the day,” was the reply.
“I hope Sophia and I may have the pleasure of meeting you there,” said Mrs. Derrington. “When you have fixed on the exact time, will you let us know?”
“Certainly, I can have no objection,” answered Mrs. Prideaux, graciously, “provided I know it myself.[”]
“How kind you always are! It will be so delightful for us to be at Mrs. Cotterell’s together. Will it not, Sophy?”
“On consideration, I cannot make this call before next week,” said Mrs. Prideaux.
“Oh! never mind. Consult your own convenience. We will wait for you.”
“Where does Mrs. Cotterell live?” inquired the great lady.
Miss Waterly and Miss Milkby now both spoke together, and designated the place. Mrs. Prideaux condescendingly thanked them for the information.
“Then,” said she to Mrs. Derrington, “as I must pass your
