“A hoax, child?” replied Miss Ossulton, sitting up on the sofa.
Cecilia found that she had hit the right nail, as the saying is; and she brought forward so many arguments to prove that she thought it was a hoax to frighten them, and that the gentleman above was a man of consequence, that her aunt began to listen to reason, and at last consented to join the dinner-party. Mrs Lascelles now came down below; and when dinner was announced they repaired to the large cabin, where they found Pickersgill and Corbett waiting for them.
Miss Ossulton did not venture to look up, until she heard Pickersgill say to Mrs Lascelles, “Perhaps, madam, you will do me the favour to introduce me to that lady, whom I have not had the honour of seeing before?”
“Certainly, my lord,” replied Mrs Lascelles. “Miss Ossulton, the aunt of this young lady.”
Mrs Lascelles purposely did not introduce his lordship in return, that she might mystify the old spinster.
“I feel highly honoured in finding, myself in the company of Miss Ossulton,” said Pickersgill. “Ladies, we wait but for you to sit down. Ossulton, take the head of the table and serve the soup.”
Miss Ossulton was astonished; she looked at the smugglers, and perceived two well-dressed gentlemanly men, one of whom was apparently a lord and the other having the same family name.
“It must be all a hoax,” thought she, and she very quietly took to her soup.
The dinner passed off very pleasantly; Pickersgill was agreeable, Corbett funny, and Miss Ossulton so far recovered herself as to drink wine with his lordship, and to ask Corbett what branch of their family he belonged to.
“I presume it’s the Irish branch?” said Mrs Lascelles, prompting him.