“Oh, heaps of a sort. Of course, I’ve played about.”
“What’s that?”
“Sitting in corners and writing little notes and having jokes, but nothing serious. Mother thinks it is time there was something serious; you see, I’m twenty-three”—and she blew a cloud. “And I’ve no looks or money; I’m only smart and bright and well turned out, and an A1 dancer and bridger.”
“What’s a bridger?”
“Oh, you poor dear innocent, you’ll soon know! Well, as I was saying, I’m not a very marketable article, and here you come and take all the wind out of my little sails.”
“There’s no fear of that! You can’t understand the dread I’m in of all the strange grand folk. When I think of things I’m scared; and as to the servants, I declare they just paralyse me!”
“How ridiculous! You must really learn to hold up your head and be self-confident.”
“I never could. Now, there’s your mother; she’s a real lady; any one can see that with half an eye.”
“Of course, mother comes of a good old family, and is proud; but she was only a parson’s daughter—second son—family living, you know?”
“No, I know nothing. I’ve heard of a living family, never of a family living. I’m afraid her ladyship will mislike me.”