"La, ma! what a fine lady that is!" said one of the girls. "Did you ever see such a hat?"
"And look at the gentleman courting her!"
"Hush now, my dear! He is a lord, and the t'other is a baronet."
"Well, we are in fine company. I wish we knew some of 'em. I say, ma——"
At this moment the very stout mamma dropped her fan, and Griselda, who was nearest to it, picked it up and handed it to her with a gracious smile.
"Thank you, my dear, I am sure. Won't you take a seat here?" she continued, gathering together the ample folds of her moreen pelisse trimmed with fur, and edging up to her daughters, who were on the same bench.
A quick glance showed Griselda that Sir Maxwell was meditating a raid on her, so she accepted the offer, and almost at the same moment the Marchioness of Lothian appeared, and Sir Maxwell advanced to her, bowed low, and led her to a seat.
At least he would show Griselda, that if she chose to slight him, a live Marchioness was of a different mind.
The band now struck up, and Mrs. Greenwood beat time with her large foot, and nodded her head till the plume of feathers in her hat waved like the plumes of a palm-tree in the tropics.
Her daughters did not allow the band to hinder their remarks on the company, as some promenaded up and down, and others reclined, like Lady Betty, on the crimson-covered lounges.