For ten long minutes did Meg argue, reason, coax, and appeal to Nellie’s better judgment: the fear of Isabel’s sneers, together with the thought of the cost of her shoes and gloves, were of more avail. The girl was quietly obdurate; Meg found she was not even listening to her.
“They are sending a brougham down to pick me up at the Bentleys,” she said, when Meg was almost exhausted; “I shall miss them if I wait any longer.” She moved to the door.
But a flame of righteous anger sprang up in Meg’s eyes. She hastened down the corridor to Pip’s room, and laid the case in a few words before him.
Offended as he was with his sister, he could not refuse to uphold her in a matter like this—especially as he had such a vast contempt for the “mushrooms.”
He caught Nellie on the staircase.
[189]
]“Don’t be such a little idiot!” he said. “Go and take that frippery off at once!”
“Go and mind your own business, Philip Woolcot!” retorted Nellie.
“Well, of all little donkeys!” he said. “Do you actually mean to say, Meg, she was going off on her own hook, without you or me or any one?”
“I certainly do think she’s losing her senses!” Meg said in exasperation.
Philip surveyed her in silence for a minute—her exquisite, childish, unformed beauty even appealed to his coldly fraternal eyes. He smiled almost benignly.