"What did she say?" demanded Mrs. Jenkins fiercely.
"She said, that it was noticed how Miss Travers always went about alone; quite a well-known figure in Kensington Gardens, a tall girl in mourning, taking a Pom for exercise. That she was never to be seen with her aunt in the carriage, or at any place of amusement."
"Why, of course not!" burst out Mrs. Jenkins; "her year of mourning is not nearly up. What else?" she demanded dramatically.
"That she appeared to have no young friends."
"Is it likely, my good Henrietta, that I would allow my house to be overrun and turned upside down by a pack of young people, simply to amuse a girl who has to look to me, for her daily bread? I never cared for Mrs. Devine, but I had intended to invite her to my next large dinner-party. Now I shall cross her name off the list—she shall eat no more dinners or luncheons, here!"
"I should hope not!" said Mrs. Taylor emphatically, "for Mrs. Murray told me privately, how Mrs. Devine had remarked to her, that the girl was treated more like a servant, than a relative: said she was shabbily dressed, neglected, and snubbed, and that if Miss Travers had a spark of spirit, she would find another situation—and clear out!"
This conversation proved extremely agitating to Mrs. Jenkins. It came as a revelation; a shattering mental avalanche: that anyone among her acquaintance should dare to find fault with her! The extraordinary influence of Mrs. Taylor, was entirely due to her unfailing supply of the most honeyed flattery! Misguided Arabella, was invariably told the things she wished to hear, and lived under the impression, that she was beyond the reach of criticism; everything she did was right; she had felt complacently assured that her neighbours and friends unanimously applauded her, for her benevolence in giving a home to her orphan niece!
The recent exciting and unexpected information, brought on a sharp attack of nervous palpitation.—Whenever Mrs. Jenkins was annoyed, she immediately complained of "palpitation."—Mrs. Taylor had swift recourse to the usual remedy, a bottle of drops—and as she handed the wine-glass to her patroness, she said impressively:
"Darling Arabella, you know, you will never have any comfort or peace, until you get rid of that girl. She is accomplished, I understand, and now she is nineteen, and looks years older than when she arrived, surely her friend Mrs. Briscoe can find her a situation as governess?"
"No, no," protested Mrs. Jenkins, "I won't have that—Nancy is useful; clever with her fingers, active on her feet; the Pom is fond of her, and you know how few people he likes! Baker, too, though terribly against Nancy at first, thinks her a nice young lady. Of course, I need not tell you, that I never bargained for a girl in the house; and I daresay I should be happier without her, but if I were to allow Nancy to go away, and take a situation—just think of the talk!"