“If Miss Keith be with her, she may as well be asked too,” observed Grandmamma, after she had refreshed her faculties with a pinch of snuff.
My Aunt Dorothea sat down and writ the note, and then, bidding me ring the bell, sent Caesar with it. He returned with a few lines from Flora, accepting the invitation for herself, but declining it for Annas. I was less surprised than sorry. Certainly, were I Annas, I should not care to come back to Bloomsbury Square.
“Poor white thing!” said my Aunt Kezia, when she saw Flora in the evening. “Why, you are worse to look at than these girls, and they are ill enough.”
Flora brings news that Annas is to see the Princess next Thursday, but she has made up her mind to tarry longer in London, and will not go back with us. I asked where she was going to be, and Flora said at Mr Raymond’s.
“What, all alone?” said Hatty.
“Oh, no!” answered Flora; “Mr Raymond’s mother is there.”
I did not know that Mr Raymond had a mother.
Annas had a letter this morning from Lady Monksburn: the loveliest letter, says Flora, that ever woman penned. Mr Raymond said, when he had read it (which she let him do) that it was worthy of a martyr’s mother.
“Is Mr Raymond coming round?” said I.
“What, in politics?” replied Flora, with a smile. “I don’t quite know, Cary. I doubt if he will turn as quickly as you did.”