And here Jericho, with a wan look, laid down the newspaper; then ventured to glance appealingly in the face of Mrs. Jericho, and sighed.
Mrs. Jericho was not to be moved. She was there to fulfil a great purpose. She had, or thought she had, some solemn warning in her breast that the approaching festival at Jogtrot Lodge portended greatness to one, haply to both her daughters: and the children should make a seemly preparation for their destiny. They should be drest and adorned for the best luck that could befal them. With whatever state it might please fortune to smile upon them, they should be worthy of her most affectionate notice. This determination every moment grew stronger in the heart of the mother, who dropt her cold regards upon the newspaper, and then slowly raised it in her hand. A cruel, cutting smile of irony sharpened her lips. “Oh yes,” she said, “I see what has engaged you in this paper. It’s very plain!”
“What’s plain?” asked Jericho.
“Oh, the advertisement here. ’Pon my word, I think the press of the country has come to something, when it brings morning vipers into the bosom of a family.”
“Morning vipers! What is the woman after?”
“The liberty of the press! The libertinism, Mr. Jericho, that’s the word. Now, do you suppose that I can be so darkened, not to see that this advertisement is addressed to you?” and Mrs. Jericho pointed her finger like a dagger to the top of a column.
“Is the woman mad?” asked Jericho.
“No, sir; and it’s the wonder of all my friends—all who know your conduct—that I am not. For this—this is enough to make me mad,” and Mrs. Jericho read from the top column these mysterious words:—
BARBARA ***** is anxious to hear from J. The last Bank-note was received. Darling S. is quite well; but prattles continually about J.
“And seated before me you can read this! Why, of course, that’s where your money goes,” and Mrs. Jericho, to be prepared, twitched forth her pocket-handkerchief.