THE AWKWARD AGE
for you, I'm afraid—though of course she might: she went because you had promised her Mr. Longdon. But I should have no more feeling about her going to you—and should expect her to have no more—than about her taking a pound of tea, as she sometimes does, to her old nurse, or her going to read to the old women at the workhouse. May you never have less to brag of!"
"I wish she'd bring me a pound of tea!" Mr. Cashmore resumed. "Or ain't I enough of an old woman for her to come and read to me at home?"
"Does she habitually visit the workhouse?" Mr. Longdon inquired of Mrs. Brook.
This lady kept him in a moment's suspense, which another pair of eyes might moreover have detected that Vanderbank in some degree shared. "Every Friday at three."
Vanderbank, with a sudden turn, moved slowly to one of the windows, and Mr. Cashmore had a happy remembrance. "Why, this is Friday—she must have gone today. But does she stay so late?"
"She was to go afterwards to little Aggie: I'm trying so, in spite of difficulties," Mrs. Brook explained, "to keep them on together." She addressed herself with a new thought to Mr. Longdon. "You must know little Aggie—the niece of the Duchess: I forget if you've met the Duchess, but you must know her too—there are so many things on which, I'm sure, she'll feel with you. Little Aggie's the one," she continued; "you'll delight in her; she ought to have been mamma's grandchild."
"Dearest lady, how can you pretend, or for a moment compare her—?" Mr. Cashmore broke in. "She says nothing to me at all."
"She says nothing to any one," Mrs. Brook serenely replied; "that's just her type and her charm—just, above all, her education." Then she appealed to Vanderbank. "Won't Mr. Longdon be struck with little
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