‘If she had,’ says Miss Barry with dignity—she has never seen the outside of a theatre—‘I should have had no hesitation whatsoever in sending for the sergeant and giving her in charge.’
CHAPTER XXXVII.
‘She is outwardly
All that bewitches sense, all that entices,
Nor is it in our virtue to uncharm it.’
It is a week later, and the village is now stirred to its depth. Such gaieties! Such gaddings to and fro! Such wonderful tales of what Lady Forster wore and Sir William said, and how Miss Prior looked. Gossip is flowing freely, delightfully, and Miss Ricketty, whose shop is a general meeting-place, is doing a roaring business in buns and biscuits.
The Park, in fact, is full of guests.
‘Every corner,’ says Miss Blake to Mrs. Hennessy, in a mysterious whisper, ‘is full to overflowing. I hear that some of the servants have to be accommodated outside the house, and that Mr. Crosby has painted and papered and done up the loft over the stables in the latest Parisian style for the maids and valets.’
‘My dear!’ says Mrs. Hennessy, in an awful tone—very justly shocked; then, ‘You forget yourself, Maria!’
‘Faith I did,’ says Miss Blake, bursting into an irrepressible giggle. ‘Law, how funny y’are! But they’re safely divided, I’m told, one at one side o’ the yard, the other at this, as it were. Like the High churches we hear of in England. The goats and the sheep—ha, ha!’