"A carriage and four—sleek bays with long tails; no, white horses with pretty pink rosettes, and harness all glittering with silver! Drive through London—up and down Hyde Park—taken for the Queen—bowing—smiling—ah me, the bubble has burst!"
"This is some poor creature that has lost her wits!" thought the astonished Mr. Learning, scarcely knowing whether to regard Miss Folly with pity or with contempt. Already another bubble was swelling on the bowl of her pipe, and in a minute another bright ball was floating aloft in the air.
"Exquisite beauty—great attractions—such a voice—such a manner—such a killing smile! An ode from the poet-laureate; bouquets, sent without end; roses in the middle of winter; a hundred and fifty scented pink notes on Valentine's day; the star of the season; the—lack-a-day! that lovely bubble has gone for ever!"
"It's time that I should go too," said Mr. Learning; "I've heard enough of nonsense to last for a lifetime!"
He was about to depart when Matty suddenly burst into the cottage, in her eager haste almost knocking down her astonished guardian with a roll of goods which she carried on her shoulder. The shock of the collision was great, but not so great as the shock to poor Matty at so suddenly coming upon Mr. Learning when she only expected to find Miss Folly. She dropped her burden with an exclamation of surprise, and then tried to stammer forth an apology, but knew not how to begin. Mr. Learning stood straight before her, more erect and stately than ever, sternly looking down through his steel spectacles at the confused and blushing girl. Miss Folly, however, was quite at her ease, and hastily pushing aside her basin and pipe, began instantly to unroll the large parcel which Matty had dropped in her fright.
"Ah, I knew it would be so! You have chosen the sweetest pattern—the prettiest—most tasteful—most charming little carpet that ever a girl set eyes on!" and she began spreading out on the floor a fabric so thin, that it seemed as if made of rose-leaves.
"Did you buy that trash from Mr. History?" said Mr. Learning sternly to Matty.
"No—why—I own—Miss Folly recommended me rather to try Mr. Fiction, who lives close to Amusement's bazaar. It is a great matter, you know, not to have to cross over brook Bother, or carry a carpet up-hill. And Mr. Fiction has such a magnificent shop, and his wares are so very cheap."
"Cheap and often worthless!" exclaimed the angry guardian, striking the carpet with his heel, and proving the truth of his words by tearing a great hole in the middle. "I brought a gift for you, Matilda Desley, but I have no intention of leaving it here now. My hammer of Memory, my bright brass Dates, are not required to fasten down such miserable trash as this! But," he muttered as he strode away, "it is at any rate all of a piece! a carpet framed by Fiction is just the thing for a cottage papered with fairies, furnished with fancies, and occupied by Miss Folly!"
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Folly, the moment that his back was turned, "I'm glad that the old owl has flown off—he looked ready to peck out my eyes!"