Lord Mulgrave laughed again.
“Now, you see, in Ireland there’s none of that. You are a lady born, or you are not. Irish ladies don’t do washing.”
“As yet; but it will come.”
“That’s true. Some of the quality are very short of money; the Mulligans, of Carlane, have sold all their old silver and pictures, and the young ladies do lace-work for the shops. I liked the lace-work myself, but I hadn’t the time for it. I might do it now, I’m idle.”
“Yes, and you seem to be getting on pretty well, and more at your ease.”
“I’m not so flustered and awkward with you, or with the poor, or Tito; it’s only with Lady Mulgrave and the servants I feel that small, ye might put me in your pocket!”
“You will outgrow that by-and-by.”
“I’m awfully afraid of my maid; she is very nosey with me, and that’s the truth.”
“Then send her away, and get another. You must try and be more self-assured. Do you know that next week you will have to stand alone, for I’m going to the north of England on election business, and will be away a week.”