“I wonder you can look me in the face!” said Mrs Bagshot. Her eyes ran over Hero’s high-necked gown of worked French muslin, with its double flounce and rows of tucks. “Upon my word!” she said. “I dare say you have never worn such a dress in your life!”
This was an unfortunate observation, since it gave Hero the opportunity to retort: “You must know that I have not, cousin!”
“Whatever have you done to your hair?” demanded Cassandra. “You look so strange! I should — scarcely have known you.”
“It is the very latest fashion,” replied Hero. “My maid did it.”
Mrs Bagshot gave a short laugh. “Fine feathers make fine birds! I see that you have set yourself up in the very latest mode. I suppose we shall have you setting up your carriage, and renting your box at the opera, in imitation of your betters. When I consider — However, I did not come to quarrel with you, and heaven knows I am thankful to see you creditably established, even though you may have had to accept an offer made to you in a fit of pique to do it. I am sure it would not surprise me to find that you are now too grand to recognize the humble cousins who gave you a home when you were left destitute upon the world.”
“No,” said Hero seriously. “Indeed, I am not so ungrateful! And I would be glad to try to find husbands for my cousins, if I could, only Sherry says — ” She broke off short, colouring to the roots of her hair, the most comical expression of dismay on her face.
“And pray what may your husband say?” demanded Mrs Bagshot in menacing accents.
“I’ve forgotten!” said Hero desperately.
“I abhor prevarication,” remarked Eudora. “I am sure you need not fear to repeat what he said, for it does not matter a fig to us what such a rackety young man may say!”
Stung by this criticism of her idol, Hero retorted without hesitation: “Well, he said he wouldn’t have you in the house, because he doesn’t like you!”