Emma reddened, as she replied with some dignity—
“Oh no, thank you; we always dine late.”
Yes, we called it dinner. When our last visitor had driven away, Emma turned to me and said—
“My stupid brain is in a whirl. I can compare this afternoon to nothing less than a reception at Government House. I feel loaded to the earth with attention. I am to have drives, books, magazines, and even game and cough lozenges! What a funny world it is! A week ago—what am I saying? two days ago—these people stared over our heads, and looked at us as if we might give them smallpox; and behold all this change—this sudden thaw, all because I happen to know Lady Hildegarde. What did you think of them, dear—you know, you have a very critical mind?”
“Well, since you ask me, I think that there seems to be a sliding-scale of merit. Mrs. Benny looks down on Miss Skuce; Lady Bloss sniffs at the Bennys; Mrs. Cholmondeley despises Lady Bloss; and no doubt, some one else turns up her nose at her.”
“Lady Bloss’s dignity was something overpowering. She entirely shrank from India and Indian topics, and yet she is a regular old Burra mem Sahib, now I come to think of it. How I wish I had known!—I might have talked to her in Hindostani. I dare say she would have had a fit!”
“I think it is most likely either that, or she would have called the police.”
“Well, I must ask about a dressmaker immediately, and get your dresses ready,” continued Emma, “for I can see that you are going to be overwhelmed with invitations. Lady Hildegarde will, of course, chaperon you everywhere; and I should like you to do her credit!”