"No, but is it your doing, Harriet?" asked Margaret earnestly.
"Faith, no;" said Harriet laughing, "who do you suspect; Mr. Humphries has not the wit, though you have so barbarously—"
"Harriet! do not accuse me."
"I do not know who would think me worth a bouquet," said Harriet, going composedly on with her toilet; "perhaps young Vesey, or Sir Hawarth Fane. I should not wonder if it were Sir Hawarth. I hope not, though."
"But it is so very disagreeable," said Margaret, "to be obliged to any one for a bouquet. I had much rather not wear it."
"Nonsense, child, it is quite proper—flowers, you know; if it were jewels it would be quite another thing. I dare say, after all, it comes from George Gage; eh! Charlotte?"
"La, Miss Conway! how you do startle one."
"Yes, he bribed you to place these two nosegays on our tables."
"Well, Miss Conway, it is no use denying any-thing to you."
"There, Margaret, now your mind is at rest, go back and dress. What splendid hair you have, child."