Arabella blushed, and protested. Sophia, the first to recover from the shock of hearing Papa speak with such good-humour of the London scheme, said: “Oh, but, Papa, I am sure it will not signify, for ten to one all the dishes are served by the footmen in grand houses!”
“I stand corrected, Sophia,” said the Vicar, with dry meekness.
“Will Lady Bridlington have many footmen?” asked Betsy, dazzled by this vision of opulence.
“One to stand behind every chair,” promptly replied Bertram. “And one to walk behind Arabella every time she desires to take the air; and two to stand up behind my lady’s carriage; and a round dozen, I daresay, to form an avenue in the front hall anytime her ladyship increases her covers for guests. When Arabella returns to us she will have forgotten how to pick up her own handkerchief, mark my words!”
“Well, I don’t know how she will go on in such a house!” said Betsy, half-believing him.
“Nor I, indeed!” murmured Arabella.
“I trust she will go on, as you not very elegantly phrase it, my child, exactly as she would in her own home,” said the Vicar.
Silence followed this rebuke. Bertram made a grimace at Arabella across the table, and Harry dug her surreptitiously in the ribs with his elbow. Margaret, who had been wrinkling her brow over her father’s words, ventured at last to say: “Yes, Papa, but I do not precisely see how she can do so! It must be so very different to what we are accustomed to! I should not be surprised, for instance, if she found herself obliged to wear her party-gowns every evening, and I am sure she will not help with the baking,—or starch shirts, or feed the chickens, or—or anything of that nature!”
“That was not quite what I meant, my dear,” responded the Vicar repressively.
“Will she not be made to do any work at all?” exclaimed Betsy. “Oh, how much I wish I had a rich godmother!”