“I will come in a minute,” said Henrietta, who was assisting in adjusting the prop to which the old daphne was tied.
“Don’t stop for me, my dear,” said Mrs. Langford: “there, don’t let me be in your way.”
“O, grandmamma, I like to do this very much.”
“But, Henrietta,” persisted the despotic Queen Bee, “we really ought to be there.”
“What is all this about?” said grandmamma, not particularly well pleased. “There, go, go, my dear; I don’t want any more, thank you: what are you in such a fuss for now, going out all day again?”
“Yes, grandmamma,” said Beatrice, “did you not hear that Mr. Franklin asked us to dress the church for to-morrow? and we must not waste time in these short days.”
“Dress the church! Well, I suppose you must have your own way, but I never heard of such things in my younger days. Young ladies are very different now!”
Beatrice drove Henrietta up-stairs with a renewed “Do make haste,” and then replied in a tone of argument and irritation, “I do not see why young ladies should not like dressing churches for festivals better than arraying themselves for balls and dances!”
True as the speech was, how would Beatrice have liked to have seen her father or mother stand before her at that moment?
“Ah, well! it is all very well,” said grandmamma, shaking her head, as she always did when out-argued by Beatrice, “you girls think yourselves so clever, there is no talking to you; but I think you had much better let old Martha alone; she has done it well enough before ever you were born, and such a litter as you will make the Church won’t be fit to be seen to-morrow! All day in that cold damp place too! I wonder Mary could consent, Henrietta looks very delicate.”