“Has Sarah or her cousin called upon you since the death of Gorthley?” by which she meant, according to the custom of the time, her own husband.
“They are even at this moment in the other room, madam,” said he, with a lawyer’s smile on his face.
“Indeed,” said her ladyship, with an expression of both surprise and anger. “Why, she told me an hour ago that she was going to take a walk by the ‘Cat Nick.’”
“And so she has,” added the writer, still smiling, “for my door may not be inappropriately so called in the circumstances?”
“Only, I presume,” said the lady, “I am not, I hope, to be included among the cats. I will wait until you have learned what the impertinent girl has got to say, and then you will have time to hear me and Martha.”
“I already know that,” said he; “but, as I believe our conversation is about finished, I will despatch them in a few seconds, and then return to hear your ladyship’s commands.”
“But you will say nothing of our being here.”
“The never a word, madam,” said he, adding to himself as he went away, “I don’t want a battle of the cats in my office at least; they do best when they put the cheese into the hands of the ——,” and he did not add the word monkey, insomuch as it looked personal.
“There, you see, Martha, the gipsy is determined to stand by her rights,” was the remark of her ladyship after Mr Pollock had left the room.
“But we’ll beat her off, mother,” rejoined Martha, with a spirit which Mr Pollock or any other lawyer might have admired; “and,” continued Martha, with a smile, “we will say nothing about the strawberry.”