placed his feet upon the other, and proceeded to kindle the eternal cigarette.
“Now, don’t make me smell of smoke, Mr. Adair, but say what you want to say, and let me go, as we have got some people, and I shall be missed.”
“You have got some people? Name the people.”
“Nobody you know.”
“That, my dear, is an assumption on a subject of which you know nothing. I know everybody, and whether I do or not, be good enough to do as I ask you.”
“Well, I don’t know the names.”
“That is an untruth.”
“I declare I don’t. Madame called one of the ladies her dear Louise.”
“How long have they been there?”
“Only half an hour.”
“English or French?”
“There is a gentleman and two ladies. He is French, and one of the ladies is English.”
“Is that my dear Louise?”
“No, the other.”
“You are short in your replies to-day, Miss Henderson, or shall I say Matilda—not that I believe that to be your name. I should have thought that your experience had told you that short answers do not suit me.”
“I have told you all I know, and how can I tell you more?”
“You can tell me a great deal more, and will have the goodness to do so.”
“I say then that I know nothing of them, except that they came in a carriage.”
“How many horses, and their colour?”
“Two horses,—brown ones.”
“Colour of carriage?”
“Dark green.”
“There, you see, valuable information at once, which shows that you do not do yourself justice. They sent in their cards, I suppose?”
“Angelique took them in.”
“You will be kind enough to copy them for me, and enclose the copy in one of those blue envelopes I gave you. Post it this evening.”
“Very well. Is that all? I shall be sure to smell of smoke,” said Matilda, “and Madame does hate it so.”
“Naturally. It reminds her of her husband, who is never without a cigar, I think.”
“I wish you were half as good a man as Mr. Urquhart.”
“Never wish impossibilities, my dear. I have no ambition to attain such a sublime of virtue as can impress even Miss Matilda Henderson with admiration.”
“Can I go?”
“Certainly not. What I have told you is the smallest part of our business. Your look of impatience is not lost upon me, and I answer it by saying that if you had chosen to tell me all that you have told me without giving me the trouble of questioning, we should have saved much time. So, if Madame boxes your ears it will be your own fault.”
“Madame box my ears, indeed!”
“It might be for your good, occasionally,” said Ernest. “I have felt that so strongly, that I have at times been inclined to do it myself, and I don’t know that I may not yet make that effort for your improvement. In the meantime, I have something else to tell you.”
“Do make haste,” said the girl.
“You are going to have another visitor.”
“Yes, I expected that.”
“And why did you not mention your expectations to me?”
“Why, what time have I had? The note came only an hour ago.”
“A lady’s note, English hand, the letter L on the seal?”
“No, there was no seal.”
“Careless in the writer, knowing the house she was writing to.”
“It is like you, to drive a girl into spying and meanness, and then throw it in her teeth,” said Matilda.
“Is it? I pique myself on my consistency, do you know?” returned Adair, smiling. “How did you manage to read the note?”
“I have not read it. Madame tore it open eagerly, and hurried through it, and seemed very much pleased. Then she went into the little spare bedroom, and looked about it, as if she wanted it to be ready for somebody.”
“But gave no orders?”
“No. Don’t I tell you that these other people came?”
“Very well; don’t be angry. You have no idea who this new visitor is?”
“Not I. I shall know when she comes, I suppose, and that will be time enough for me.”
“It will not. There are reasons why you should know beforehand, and that is why I have asked your presence here, Miss Henderson.”
“Well, who is it?”
“Your mistress’s sister. What a tell-tale face you have! You look as pleased as if it were your own sister coming. Perhaps more so?”
“You have no call to talk about my sister, or anybody else belonging to me, Mr. Adair,” returned the girl, flushing up. “I shall be glad if Mrs. Hawkesley is coming, because she is a kind creature.”
“Visions of five-franc pieces, spare my aching sight! ye unworn dresses, crowd not on my soul!” said Adair, rather to himself than the girl.
“It has nothing to do with her presents,” retorted Matilda, catching at the meaning of the parody; “but because she is truly kind and considerate, and thinks of a servant as if she were flesh and blood.”
“Is that a reproach to me, for having failed to render due homage to your attractions?”
“Have you anything more to say to me, Mr. Adair?” said the girl, not vouchsafing to notice the speech.
“Yes. First, it is not Mrs. Hawkesley who is coming. Don’t look vexed, Mrs. Urquhart’s other sister is quite as well off as Mrs. Hawkesley, and there are several reasons why the visit may be a much better thing for you than if it were from that good-natured lady who kept you up so late from her love of going to the theatres.”
“Is it Mrs. Lygon?”
