“Why, I hardly know. We shall see.”
“Is it so very good, then?”
“No. I believe the worst of my skating is, that it is totally devoid of every sort of expression. That is just the true account of it,” he continued, as his wife laughed. “I do not square my elbows, nor set my coat flying, nor stoop, nor rear; but neither is there any grace. I just go straight on; and, as far as I know, nobody ever bids any other body look at me.”
“So you bid your own family come and look at you. But how are your neighbours to quiz you if they do not observe you?”
“Oh, that was only a bit of antithesis for effect. My last account is the true one, as you will see. I shall come in for you at twelve.”
By twelve the sun had shone out, and the ladies, booted, furred, and veiled, were ready to encounter the risks and rigours of the ice and snow. As they opened the hall door they met on the steps a young woman, who was just raising her hand to the knocker. Her errand was soon told.
“Please, ma’am, I heard that you wanted a servant.”
“That is true,” said Hester. “Where do you come from?—from any place near, so that you can call again?”
“Surely,” said Margaret, “it is Mrs Enderby’s Susan.”
“Yes, miss, I have been living with Mrs Enderby. Mrs Enderby will give me a good character, ma’am.”