"Yes; we are rather in a hurry this morning," said Miss Todd, neglectful of the trumpet, "we have so many people to see."
"Well, good-bye; I'm very much obliged to you for coming, and Miss Todd"—and here Mrs. Leake affected to whisper; but her whisper would have been audible to a dozen, had a dozen been there—"I mustn't forget to wish you joy about Sir Lionel. Good morning to you, Miss Gaunt," and then Mrs. Leake dropt an old-fashioned gracious curtsy.
To say that Miss Todd blushed would be to belie the general rosiness of that lady's complexion. She was all blush always. Over her face colour of the highest was always flying. It was not only that her cheeks carried a settled brilliant tint, but at every smile—and Miss Todd was ever smiling—this tint would suffuse her forehead and her neck; at every peal of laughter—and her peals of laughter were innumerable—it would become brighter and brighter, coming and going, or rather ever coming fresh and never going, till the reflection from her countenance would illumine the whole room, and light up the faces of all around her. But now she almost blushed black. She had delighted hitherto in all the little bits of libellous tittle tattle to which her position as a young old maid had given rise, and had affected always to assist their propagation; but there was a poison about this old female snake, a sting in the tongue of this old adder which reached even her.
"The old fool!" said Miss Todd, by no means sotto voce.
Mrs. Leake heard her though the speaking trumpet was not in action. "No, no, no," she said, in her most good-natured voice, "I don't think he's such a fool at all. Of course he is old, and in want of an income, no doubt. But then he's a knight you know, my dear, and a colonel;" and then the two ladies, waiting for no further courtesies, went back to their fly.
Miss Todd had quite regained her good-humour by the time she was seated. "Well," said she, "what do you think of my friend, Mrs. Leake?"
"What makes her so very spiteful?" asked Adela.
"Why, you see, my dear, she'd be nothing if she wasn't spiteful. It's her fate. She's very old, and she lives there by herself, and she doesn't go out much, and she has nothing to amuse her. If she didn't do that, she couldn't do anything. I rather like it myself."
"Well, I can't say I like it," said Adela; and then they sat silent for a time, Miss Todd the while reflecting whether she would, in any way, defend herself from that imputation about Sir Lionel.
"But you see what sort of a woman she is, Miss Gauntlet; and, of course, you must not believe a word that she says."