“Butler’s!” exclaimed Miss Grogram, with a toss of her head.
“Oh, Aunt Sally, Aunt Sally! how can you?” shrieked the two young ladies.
“Oh laws!” ejaculated Mrs. Jones.
“I don’t think that they could have belonged to the butler,” said Miss Macmanus, with much authority, “seeing that domestics in this country are never clad in garments of that description; so far my own observation enables me to speak with certainty. But it is equally sure that they were never the property of the general lately in command at Antwerp. Generals, when they are in full dress, wear ornamental lace upon their—their regimentals; and when—” So much she said, and something more, which it may be unnecessary that I should repeat; but such were her eloquence and logic that no doubt would have been left on the mind of any impartial hearer. If an argumentative speaker ever proved anything, Miss Macmanus proved that General Chassé had never been the wearer of the article in question.
“But I know very well they were his!” said Miss Grogram, who was not an impartial hearer. “Of course they were; whose else’s should they be?”
“I’m sure I hope they were his,” said one of the young ladies, almost crying.
“I wish I’d never taken it,” said the other.
“Dear, dear, dear!” said Mrs. Jones.
“I’ll give you my needle-case, Miss Grogram,” said Aunt Sally.
I had sat hitherto silent during the whole scene, meditating how best I might confound the red-nosed harpy. Now, I thought, was the time for me to strike in.