“Do you think it would?”
“Ye-e-e-es. Oh, yes, decidedly so in your case, ma’am,” said Miss Clode, in quite the tone of a female physician. “Poems—soft, dreamy, soothing poems, now, would I think be most suited.”
“Oh, do you think so?” said Mrs Burnett half pettishly.
“Yes, ma’am, I have a volume here, not included in the library, but for sale—‘Lays of the Heart-strings’—by a gentleman of quality. I should recommend it strongly.”
“Oh, dear no,” exclaimed the visitor, as Miss Clode took the work from the shelf. “I don’t think a—well, I will look at it,” she said, blushing vividly, as she saw that the book did not thoroughly close in one part. “Perhaps you are right, Miss Clode. I will take it. What is the price?”
“Half a guinea, ma’am, to subscribers, and I will call you a subscriber. Shall I do it up in paper?”
“Yes, by all means. What delightful weather we are having!”
“Delightful, indeed, ma’am,” said Miss Clode, whose face was simply business-like. There was not a nerve-twitch, not a peculiar glance to indicate that she was playing a double part; and it was wonderfully convenient. Visitors both ladies and gentlemen, liked it immensely, and patronised her accordingly, for no Artesian well was ever so deep and dark as Miss Clode, or as silent. She knew absolutely nothing. Mrs Frank Burnett had bought a volume of poems at her establishment, that was all. Anybody might have slipped the note inside. While as to seeking a client’s confidence, or alluding in the mildest way to any little transaction that had taken place for the sake of obtaining further fee or reward, any client would have told you that with the purchase of book, album, card-case, or needle-housewife, every transaction was at an end; and so Miss Clode’s business throve, and Lord Carboro’ called her the Saltinville sphinx.
“Is there any particular news stirring, Miss Clode?”
“Really, no, ma’am,” said that lady, pausing in the act of cutting the twine that confined the book. “A new family has come to the George; and, by the way, I have to send their cards to Mr Denville.”