[Rising hastily.] Mrs. Gaylustre—I didn’t see you.
Lady Twombley.
[To Brooke and Lady Euphemia.] Dear old Lady Leeke, whose wheels we locked in the Park, said she had heard Imogen’s name mentioned fifty times. Mrs. Charlie Lessingham declares nothing prettier has been seen since her own first season. And it’s true—that’s the best of it! I saw the child make her courtesy; I was determined I would. I entered the Throne Room just before her and tumbled through anyhow, with one eye straight in front of me and the other screwed round towards my girl. There was a general shudder—it was at my squint.
Sir Julian Twombley.
I trust not, Katherine.
Lady Twombley.
When I did get through they gave me my train, as much as to say: “If this belongs to you, take it home as soon as possible.” But there I stuck in the doorway, not budging an inch. I didn’t care how the officials whispered, and waved, and beckoned; I stood my ground. And then, Julian, then my breath nearly went from me, for I saw her coming! Effie, it was lovely! Brooke, you would have been proud of your sister! Her cheeks were like the outside leaf of a Duchesse de Vallombrosa rose, and her eyes like two dewdrops on the top of it; and she had just enough fright in her little heart to make her feathers tremble. Then she courtesied. Ah, if she had stumbled I should have been by her side in an instant—who would have blamed me? I’m her mother!—but she didn’t. No, she floated towards me—dipping, and dipping, and dipping, again and again, as smoothly and gracefully as a swan swimming backward!
[Lady Twombley embraces Imogen.]
Lady Euphemia Vibart.
I am too glad, Aunt Kitty.