"I see," rejoined Pansey, laughing. "To revert to the metaphor you used in our conversation some days since, you object to a peal of belles. Your doctrine may be embodied in the formula, I presume, of one belle and one ringer."
"Yes," rejoined her ladyship, smiling, "that about describes it. And now I think it is about bed-time. Jim, my dear," she continued, as she took her bed-room candle, "as you have thought fit to improvise a ball, you had better take care that the young ladies have partners by asking three or four of the officers from Rockcliffe, if they will waive ceremony and come."
"All right," he replied, "I will send over the first thing to-morrow morning;" and from the inflexion of his mother's voice, Jim gathered that his programme for the morrow had, at all events, not met altogether with her approval.
But there were still a few more bitter drops to be squeezed into the cup of Lady Mary's discontent before she laid her head upon her pillow. She had not been ten minutes in her room when there was a tap at the door, and Blanche entered.
"I just looked in, mamma dear, to ask you if you knew that the
Chipchases were related to Mrs. Wriothesley?"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Lady Mary; "what can you be dreaming of? Why, I have known Laura and her sister all their lives; and had they been related to that detestable woman, I must have heard of it."
"Well, I can only say that Sylla Chipchase told me to-day at Trotbury that Mrs. Wriothesley was her aunt, and that she was going up to stay with her as soon as the holidays were over."
"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Lady Mary, "I might have guessed it; I might have known there was some reason for my instinctive dislike to that girl. That a niece of that horrid woman should turn out as objectionable as herself is only what one might expect."
"But really, mamma dear," expostulated Blanche, "although I don't quite like Sylla Chipchase myself, you cannot say that of her. I know you don't like Mrs. Wriothesley; but she is a very pretty woman, and Jim declares a very pleasant one."
"Don't talk to me of Jim!" cried Lady Mary petulantly. "He is too provoking, and thinks every woman not positively ugly that smiles upon him delightful; but I lose all patience when I speak of Mrs. Wriothesley. Of course it's quite possible for Mrs. Wriothesley to be Sylla's aunt, although no relation to her cousins; and you say this girl is going to stay with her?"