“Yes,” assented Olivia, “she is like the portraits of Lady Grisdale. How is your brother? Isn’t he coming here to-day?”
The Misses Oldshaw disliked any allusion to their brother, who, they considered, did them little credit. And to hear him mentioned by Olivia Denison was especially galling. It seemed to them to signify, what indeed was the truth, that she ranked Mat, with his rough speech and shy, awkward ways, above themselves, with all their pretensions. Miss Oldshaw therefore answered with a shrill tartness which surprised Olivia, who had certainly no wish to offend her—
“Oh, he’s not coming here. His tastes don’t lie in the direction of either nice people or nice amusements.”
“Indeed! I should have thought they would when he’s so nice himself.”
“Oh, of course niceness is a matter of taste,” said Miss Oldshaw with an affected laugh. “Perhaps you would consider the person he has gone to see nice.”
“Very likely,” said Olivia, coolly.
“Dear me,” interrupted the second sister, with a perceptible sneer; “you forget that Mr. Vernon Brander may be a friend of Miss Denison’s.”
“If it is Mr. Vernon Brander whom Mat has gone to see, I don’t think he has chosen his pleasure badly. At least he is in pleasanter society, than we all have the fortune to meet here.”
And Olivia, who had remained very quiet during this disagreeable colloquy, turned away, while her companion burst into a loud fit of laughter, and glancing over his shoulder at the sisters, remarked in a voice which they were intended to hear—
“Why does Mrs. Brander invite those people? Everybody knows they were both sweet on Parson Longface until they found it was no go.”