"Yes, they are though: poor dear Roger, he used to call me 'my lady' just to make fun of me; I didn't mind it so much from him. But, Miss Thorne—"
"Mary, Mary, Mary."
"Ah, well! I shall do it in time. But, Miss—Mary, ha! ha! ha! never mind, let me alone. But what I want to say is this: do you think I could drop it? Hannah says, that if I go the right way about it she is sure I can."
"Oh! but, Lady Scatcherd, you shouldn't think of such a thing."
"Shouldn't I now?"
"Oh, no; for your husband's sake you should be proud of it. He gained great honour, you know."
"Ah, well," said she, sighing after a short pause; "if you think it will do him any good, of course I'll put up with it. And then I know Louis would be mad if I talked of such a thing. But, Miss Thorne, dear, a woman like me don't like to have to be made a fool of all the days of her life if she can help it."
"But, Lady Scatcherd," said Mary, when this question of the title had been duly settled, and her ladyship made to understand that she must bear the burden for the rest of her life, "but, Lady Scatcherd, you were speaking of Sir Roger's sister; what became of her?"
"Oh, she did very well at last, as Sir Roger did himself; but in early life she was very unfortunate—just at the time of my marriage with dear Roger—," and then, just as she was about to commence so much as she knew of the history of Mary Scatcherd, she remembered that the author of her sister-in-law's misery had been a Thorne, a brother of the doctor; and, therefore, as she presumed, a relative of her guest; and suddenly she became mute.
"Well," said Mary; "just as you were married, Lady Scatcherd?"