I hastened to explain that I deserved none at all, for Maria had helped me all through; but my Aunt Kezia did not seem at all vexed to hear it; she only laughed, and said, “Good girl!”
“Isn’t it horrid work?” said Cecilia, who sat next me, in a whisper.
“Oh no!” said I; “I rather like it.”
She shrugged her shoulders in what Hatty calls a Frenchified way. “Catch me at it!” she said.
“You can come to the kitchen and catch me at it, if you like,” said I, laughing. “But it is all as new to me as to you. Till a few months ago, I lived with my grandmother in Carlisle, and she never let me do anything of that sort.”
“What was her name?” said Cecilia.
“Desborough,” said I; “Mrs General Desborough.”
“Oh, is Mrs Desborough your grandmother?” cried she. “I know Mrs Charles Desborough so well.”
“That is my Aunt Dorothea,” said I. “Grandmamma is gone to live with my Uncle Charles.”
“How pleasant!” said Cecilia. “You are such a sweet little darling!” and she squeezed my hand under the table.