"I will not tell you," said Margaret.
"Poor Humphries!" said Mr. Evan, still looking at the couple on the other side. "He will go home now, and swear she is his devoted admirer! How well Miss Bremer hits off a scene of that kind in the new novel of the H—— Family."
"I recollect it," said Margaret, smiling.
"His letter to his brother—ha! ha!—You ladies see the bye-play of society so very keenly."
"I am not an authoress," said Margaret.
"I am aware of that. You do not look in the least like one, I can assure you."
"What do they look like, then?"
"Green spectacles, frizzled hair, which they obstinately refuse to cover with a cap. Large hands in black mittens—ditto feet, in villainous thick shoes. In fact, every thing that is most odious in women, and to crown all, when they walk abroad, or take the air, or whatever phrase they may employ to indicate their savage peregrinations, they exhibit to the world an old straw bonnet adorned with a broken black feather—this costume is invariable."
"I do not believe that picture to be always correct," said Margaret laughing.
"But it has entirely answered my purpose, it has made you laugh; and a genuine merry laugh is not a thing to be met with every day in the week."