“Were you, indeed? That I did not know. ’Twill be a pleasure to you, Mrs Jane, to have an old schoolfellow so near.”
“Depends,” said Mrs Jane sententiously.
“No doubt,” answered Madam. “Were you and Mrs Eleanor friends at school, Mrs Jane?”
“No, Madam.”
“Not? Perhaps you were not near enough of an age.”
“Only six months between. No; that wasn’t it. I was a silly scapegrace, and she was a decent, good maid. Too good for me. I haven’t got any better. And she hasn’t got any handsomer.”
“Pray forgive me,” replied Madam, with a smile, “but I cannot think that name applies to you now, Mrs Jane. And was her nephew with Mrs Eleanor; as he engaged?”
“Large as life,” said Mrs Jane.
“And how large is that, in his case?” inquired Madam.
“Asking him or me?” retorted Mrs Jane. “I should say, about as big as a field mouse. He thinks himself big enough to overtop all the elephants in creation. Marcus Welles! Oh, yes, I’ll mark him well,—you trust me.”