“Why, that Mr Tierney. I can’t conceive how Lady Cashel can have asked us to meet such a set,” and Matilda descended, pouting, and out of humour.
But on the next day she went through her work much more willingly, if not more carefully.
“That Captain Cokely’s a very nice fellow,” said Matilda; “the best of that Newbridge set, out and out.”
“Well now, I really think he’s not so nice as Mr Battersby,” said Letty. “I’m sure he’s not so good-looking.”
“Oh, Battersby’s only a boy. After all, Letty, I don’t know whether I like officers so much better than other men,”—and she twisted her neck round to get a look at her back in the pier-glass, and gave her dress a little pull just above her bustle.
“I’m sure I do,” said Letty; “they’ve so much more to say for themselves, and they’re so much smarter.”
“Why, yes, they are smarter,” said Matilda; “and there’s nothing on earth so dowdy as an old black coat, But, then, officers are always going away: you no sooner get to know one or two of a set, and to feel that one of them is really a darling fellow, but there, they are off—to Jamaica, China, Hounslow barracks, or somewhere; and then it’s all to do over again.”
“Well, I do wish they wouldn’t move them about quite so much.”
“But let’s go down. I think I’ll do now, won’t I?” and they descended, to begin the evening campaign.
“Wasn’t Miss Wyndham engaged to some one?” said old Mrs Ellison to Mrs Moore. “I’m sure some one told me so.”