"Yes. I suppose it's an old City custom, you know. Anyhow they always dine with the Lord Mayor. That's what they die of."
"And now I have something to tell you, Lucy," said Mrs. Haggard. "It's all been decided. After the Christmas festivities at the Castle we are to go to Rome, and we hope you will come too."
Lucy clapped her hands with girlish glee. "Go with you, Georgie dear? Of course I will. How good of you to ask me." The girl was evidently delighted.
"And have you the heart, Miss Warrender, to leave me, Mr. Sleek, and your other countless admirers, here in England to 'dree our weary weirds alone?'"
And so the idle talk ran on. The Italian trip was discussed, and considerable ignorance of geography was, as is usual, manifested by all present. Lucy expressed her disappointment, on being informed that there were now no brigands in Italy, save those behind the shop counters, or in the choruses of the opera.
A trim maid then brought in the tea equipage, and Georgie did the honours with her usual unaffected grace.
And now Parson Dodd and his sister were announced. The Dodds presented a rather dishevelled appearance. They, too, had seen the Lord Mayor's Show. But the vicar, in a moment of weakness, had yielded to Anastatia's wish to see something of the real Londoner, whom "dear Dickens has described so well," as she had put it.
Great had been her indignation at the want of respect shown to the Reverend John Dodd's cloth. With horror she had heard her brother addressed by a disreputable costermonger in a mangy fur cap, as "Old pal." And though the Reverend John stood all unmoved in the surging crowd, muscular pillar of the Church that he was, it was only by clutching him very tightly that poor Anastatia preserved herself from annihilation. She had seen the Lord Mayor's Show indeed, but at what a price! The long grey cloak which she wore, a sort of semi-religious garb which Miss Dodd, as a clergyman's sister, affected, had been splashed with mud and creased into a thousand wrinkles. Her maiden feet, which had never felt the sacrilegious touch of the toe of obtrusive appreciation, had been trampled on by an exhilarated London mob. And after several hours of agony, just as the Lord Mayor was actually passing, she had heard and felt a horrid rending, crackling sound, and had almost shrieked into her awe-stricken brother's ear, "Oh, Jack, I'm gone at the gathers!" What she meant neither the Reverend John Dodd, or any other male person, could ever truly know. But evidently something dreadful had occurred. "Take me back, Jack; take me back to Mrs. Haggard's at once," the poor little woman had pleaded to the parson. He got her into a cab at last, and they had reached the Haggards' house in May Fair, at which, they were stopping for the night. But Georgie Haggard came to the poor lady's rescue; she and her cousin bore her off to her hostess's own quarters, where she detailed her sufferings to their sympathizing ears. Eau de Cologne was duly dabbed upon her temples, strong tea was administered, but at length the wounded feelings of the vicar's sister found vent in a little gentle fit of sobbing, and she was accordingly put to bed.
"What possessed me I can't imagine," said the Reverend Jack to his two male friends; "we were quite comfortable at first, you know," said poor Jumbo, warm with the remembrance of his numerous humiliations. "I had put Anastatia on a bench; the man made an exceedingly moderate charge of threepence. I gave him sixpence, and strange to say he had no change. I didn't like to be done; the man urged me to occupy one place that was yet vacant; my evil genius prompted me to do so. Alas! I had no sooner stepped upon the frail structure when it suddenly and unaccountably gave way in the middle. I was precipitated to the ground in a sitting posture. Anastatia was fortunately unhurt, but she was much frightened. Those who had paid for the use of the bench demanded their money from me; while the miserable proprietor, who had previously been most respectful, in a truculent manner, and with horrible menaces, claimed a sovereign, and on my declining to comply with his extortionate demand, he actually offered to fight me, me a clergyman of the Church of England. From a sense of justice, I hastened to remunerate those who had been deprived of their coign of vantage, but, alas! the claimants were innumerable; every man and boy in my vicinity declared that he had paid for a place. The mob cheered me with derisive epithets. The climax was reached when a most offensive policeman in a dictatorial manner ordered me to 'Move on.' The Church of England, in my person, was ordered to 'move on.' I attempted to remonstrate, but I and the proprietor of the broken bench were both suddenly propelled by the Jack in-office into a bye street, and I discovered, to my horror, that I had lost Anastatia. Of course I had to satisfy the ruffian's insolent demands, but I did so under protest. The officer, however, now became more civil, and I, fortunately, with his assistance, was able to rescue my sister from the mob. I will take another cup of tea, if you please. Thank you, three lumps. I have seen the Lord Mayor's Show, never again will I assist at that degrading spectacle."
In vain did Haggard and Lord Spunyarn attempt to reassure the indignant vicar. Only on the return of Mrs. Haggard and Lucy did the Reverend John Dodd become comparatively tranquil. Under the soothing influence of beauty, however, the vicar forgot his woes.