“No, I cannot win your brother to see it,” she said, in rather a vexed tone. “He thinks so much, as you do, of the commendation my Lord Wilmot gave the young man. He saith he is sure he is not a Roundhead (I marvel how he knows); and as for his inaptitude, he said the man hath not been before in service, and hath all to learn. If that be so, it cannot be helped, and you will have to be patient with him, Jane.”
“I will be as patient as I can, madam,” said Mrs Jane gravely.
“Oh, my dear Mrs Jane! Oh, Madam! how you can!” exclaimed Millicent. “We shall all be murdered by morning, I feel certain of it! Oh, dear, dear!”
“Then you’d better make your will this evening,” coolly observed Mrs Jane. “Look here, Millicent, should you like these cherry ribbons? They would not go ill with your grey gown.”
Millicent passed in a moment from the depths of despair to the heights of ecstasy.
“Oh, how good of you, Mrs Jane! They are perfectly charming! I shall take the guarding off my grey gown to-morrow, and put them on.”
“If you survive,” said Mrs Jane solemnly.
Millicent looked slightly disconcerted.
“Well, Mrs Jane, I was going to tell you—but after what Madam said—if the young man be respectable—I don’t know, really—this morning, as he was coming into the hall, I thought—I really thought he was going to offer to take me by the hand. It gave me such a turn!”
“I don’t see why, if he had washed his hands,” said Mrs Jane.