“Who said it was Dutchy! I know the Dutch come from Holland. I know something, if I am a poor, ignorant old ’oman, fallen from my high estate. And I know as I am descended from the Duke of England, and nobody shall take that prop from underneath of me! It has supported me in many a hard trial of life!”
“No, no one shall take it from you,” said Miss Grandiere, yielding the point.
At this moment the door opened, admitting a fine, tall, dark-eyed and dark-haired young man, with a bright, merry, mischievous countenance.
He bowed to the ladies, threw his sailor hat upon the floor, and went and kissed his Aunt Sibby, and then lifted Rosemary in his arms and kissed her. Finally he shook hands again all around.
“Glad to see you back, Roland!” said Miss Grandiere.
“Welcome home, my boy!” said Mrs. Hedge.
“Did you get me a card to the wedding?” inquired the Widow Wright.
“Yes—that is, Le Force got it for me. I could not have got it, you know. Here are three—one for you, one for auntie, and one for myself,” said the young sailor, displaying the elegant cards of silver letters on white satin tablets.
“Then you are all going to the wedding?” said Mrs. Hedge.
“Yes, I reckon so now; though dear knows I didn’t expect no invitation. But I reckon it was a kind thought of that young Le to send me one,” said Miss Sibby.