‘But,’ said Bessie, ‘it is such fun to see any person having it so entirely her own way—like Macaulay, so cock-sure of everything—and to see those Bonchamp girls—Mytton is their name—so entirely adoring her.’
‘I am sorry she has taken up with those Myttons,’ said Miss Doyle.
‘So am I,’ answered Susan.
‘You too, Susie!’ exclaimed Bessie—‘you, who never have a word to say against any one!’
‘I daresay they are very good girls,’ said Susan; ‘but they are—’
‘Underbred,’ put in Miss Doyle in the pause. ‘And how they flatter!’
‘I think the raptures are genuine gush,’ said Bessie; ‘but that is so much the worse for Arthurine. Is there any positive harm in the family beyond the second-rate tone?’
‘It was while you were away,’ said Susan; ‘but their father somehow behaved very ill about old Colonel Mytton’s will—at least papa thought so, and never wished us to visit them.’
‘He was thought to have used unfair influence on the old gentleman,’ said Miss Doyle; ‘but the daughters are so young that probably they had no part in it. Only it gives a general distrust of the family; and the sons are certainly very undesirable young men.’
‘It is unlucky,’ said Bessie, ‘that we can do nothing but inflict a course of snubbing, in contrast with a course of admiration.’