"By the way," said Mr. Benthall, as, after a third ridiculous attempt at pretending he was going, he had again settled himself in his chair, but had not thought it necessary to give up Miss Gertrude's hand, which he had taken in his own when he had last risen to say adieu--"by the way, Miss--well, Gertrude--what was that you were saying last time I was here about Mrs. Creswell?"
"What I was saying about Mrs. Creswell? I don't exactly know, but it wouldn't be very difficult to guess! I hate her!" said Gertrude roundly.
"Ah, yes!" said Mr. Benthall, "I think I managed to gather that from the general tone of your conversation; but what were you saying specifically?"
"I don't know what specifically means, I think!" said Gertrude, after a moment's reflection; "but I do know why I hate her!"
"And that is because----"
"Because she pretends to be so awfully superior, and goes in to be so horribly good and demure, and all that kind of thing," said Miss Gertrude, growing very becomingly red with excitement. "She always reminds me of the publican in the parable, who, 'standing afar off'--you know what I mean! I always thought that the publican went in to draw more attention to himself by his mock humility than all the noise and outcry which the Pharisee made, and which any one would have put down to what it was worth; and that's just like Miss A.--I mean Mrs. Creswell--I'm sure I shall call her Miss A. to my dying day, Maude and I are so accustomed to speak of her like that--you'd think butter wouldn't melt in her mouth; and this is so shocking, and that is so dreadful, and she is so prim, and so innocent, and so self-sacrificing; and then she steps in and carries off our uncle, for whom all the unmarried girls in the county were angling years ago, and had given up the attempt in despair!"
"But you must have seen all this in her for months, over since she has been in the same house with you. And yet it is only since she achieved her conquest of your uncle that you've been so bitter against her."
"Not at all, George. That's so like a man, always to try and say an unpleasant thing about the want of generosity, and all that. Not at all! I don't mind so much about her marrying uncle; if he's such a silly old thing as to like to marry her, that's his look-out, and not ours. And I've no doubt she'll make him what people call a good wife, awfully respectable, and all that kind of thing. And I don't believe she's ever been in love with anybody else, notwithstanding your stories about that Mr. Joyce. I like your talking about women's gossip, sir; a fine story that was you brought us, and all started by some old woman, wasn't it? But what annoyed me worst was the way in which she wrote about making Maude give up her music-room. I call that regularly cruel, because she knew well enough that Maude was awfully fond of that room, and--and that's what makes me hate her!"
"And Maude seemed to think that that was to be but the beginning of a series of unpleasant measures."
"Well, you know Maude's blood is regularly up in this matter, and of course she is prejudiced to a certain extent, and I don't know--I'm not clever, you know, like she is--how far she's right. But I think plainly enough that Miss A.--I mean Mrs. Creswell--intends to have her own way in everything; and as she doesn't like us, and never did, she'll set much against us, and goodness knows the result!"