“I never heard of a Tallant in my life!”
“Lord, ma’am, why should you? Keep telling you she comes from some dev’lish outlandish place in the north!”
“I would not set the least store by anything Fleetwood told me!”
“Oh, it ain’t him!” said Mr. Epworth cheerfully. “He don’t know the gal’s name either. It’s the Nonpareil. Knows all about the family. Vouches for the gal.”
Her expression changed: a still sharper look entered her eyes. She said quickly: “Beaumaris?” He nodded. “If he vouches for her—Is she presentable?”
He looked shocked, and answered in protesting accents:
“’Pon my soul, ma’am, you can’t be in your senses to ask me such a demned silly question! Now, I put it to you, would Beaumaris vouch for a gal that wasn’t slapup to the echo?”
“No. No, he would not,” she said decidedly. “If it’s true, and she has no vulgar connections, it would be the very thing for you, my dear Horace!”
“Just what I was thinking myself, ma’am,” said her nephew.
“I will pay Lady Bridlington a morning-visit,” said Mrs. Penkridge.