The Baroness broke the seal. There was such a look of scare upon her features, that some people might have thought she was glad to have anything to do that should hide it from her companions. The letter was from Anthony Pennell, whose name was familiar to her, as to all the world.
As she finished its perusal, her manner entirely altered. The broad smile broke out on her countenance—her eyes sparkled—one would have thought she could never be in anything but a beaming good temper.
“’Olloa! ’Arriet!” she exclaimed, “’ere’s news for you! ’Oo do you think this letter’s from?”
“How can I guess?” replied the girl, though her thoughts had flown at once to Ralph Pullen.
“From Mr. Anthony Pennell, the great author, you know, and own cousin to that rapscallion, Captain Pullen! Now we shall ’ear all about the ’andsome Captain! Mr. Pennell says ’e wants to come ’ere and see my china, but I know better! ’E’s bringing you a message from ’is cousin, mark my words! I can see it written up be’ind you!”
Harriet’s delicate face flushed with pleasure at the news.
“But why shouldn’t Captain Pullen have come himself?” she asked, anxiously.
“I can’t tell you that! Perhaps ’e is coming, be’ind the other, and this is only a feeler! There’s wheels within wheels in these big families, sometimes, you know, and the Pullens are connected with a lot of big-wigs! But we’ll ’ave some news, anyway! You just sit down, my dear, and write Mr. Pennell a pretty note in my name—you write a prettier ’and than I do—and say we shall be very pleased to see ’im to-morrow afternoon, if convenient, and I ’ope ’e will stay to dinner afterwards and be introduced to the Baron—will you?”
“O! yes, of course, Madame, if you wish it!” replied the girl, smiles dimpling her face at the thought of her triumph over Elinor Leyton.
“Now, Miss Wynward, we must ’ave a first-rate dinner to-morrow for Mr. Pennell, and you and Bobby ’ad better dine at one o’clock, or you’ll spoil the table. Let me see! We’ll ’ave——”