“Simplicity, is it?” Kilcroney groaned. “God help us all!”
As Kitty sallied forth, all in vapoury white, fresh and sweet as a privet blossom, her face delicately pink under the artful shepherdess hat, Pompey following with the great rose-bunch in a bandbox, and little Denis trotting alongside scarlet-cheeked from a triumphant battle royal over the wearing of gloves, my Lord looked after them with some melancholy.
“I’ll stroll along presently and keep in the background. I’d not like to be blighting Kitty’s prospects after the fashion of yonder poor Rachel. By all accounts Her gracious Majesty Queen Charlotte is no more like to fancy an Irishman than the unhappy girl that has a mistake to her name.”
Kitty had determined to walk to the pump room. ’Twas scarce a hundred yards away, and “squeeze those crisp flounces into a chair before they had served their purpose—never!” She had taken but a few steps along the street when who should cross her but Mrs. Lafone. Molly, all in the modesty of lilac dimity, with pensiveness, something even approaching penitence, on her pert face. Kitty was in a fair humour, and as her little enemy flung her a deprecating glance of green eyes, actually paused and smiled.
“Whither away, Lafone?”
“Alas, my Lady Kilcroney, stepping into the pump room anon to drink my glass of the waters, I heard as how Her Majesty was expected, and how you and the other ladies of note are to receive her on this, her first appearance.... My Lady Kilcroney, knowing myself so unfit, feeling myself so out of spirits, I deemed it more becoming to retire till all was over.”
Now Kitty, riding on the top of the wave, was a trifle intoxicated. It was in a tone of almost Royal patronage that she exclaimed:
“Why should you miss the sight, child? You could very well find a little place where you could see and not be seen. Retrace your steps with me.”
“Oh! My Lady Kilcroney,” cries Molly, with her dramatic clasp of the hands, “was there ever anyone so truly benevolent as you are!”
Hanging her head, the little minx started off, a humble step behind her patroness, and, looking over his shoulder at her, Denis the younger was fascinated by the wicked mockery on her face, and nearly fell into a puddle for staring.