"Might I ask what toffy is?" enquired Margaret.
"It is made, my love, by boiling treacle and sugar," replied Harriet.
"Oh, and lemon-peel!" said Lady Raymond.
"No; almonds," replied Harriet; "that was the way we made it one morning when George was gone to a steeple-chase; and when he came back he could not think what made everything so sticky. That is the only objection to the compounding of toffy. You still like Mrs. Fitzpatrick, Margaret?" she said, turning to her with much softness of expression.
"Very much! I am truly attached to her," replied Margaret.
"I am glad of it. No doubt she is a delightful person," said Harriet. "But you are not going to be an old maid. I have my wits about me; and I will take any bet that any body pleases to offer, you don't go back single. Everard Gage comes here this very day, does not he, Lucy?"
"Yes; but Everard—" said Lady Raymond.
"I know he will be as hard to rouse as a polar bear," said Harriet; "but I pique myself on doing wonders."
"But pray, Harriet, not for me," said Margaret. "Do not disturb Mr. Everard's tranquillity on my account."