Duly fortified with a slice of dry toast and a cup of very strong tea, the old lady said in such a clear and incisive tone that she must have studied the art of elocution in the days of her youth—
“Burden, cover my head.”
The gentlewoman obeyed the command with delicacy and with dexterity. Yet it must not be thought that the elaborate mechanism which adorned the venerable poll fourteen hours out of the twenty-four was taken from the center of the dressing-table. It was not. Various ceremonies had to be performed before the moment arrived for its reception. In its place a temporary, but none the less marvelous, erection of fine needlework and point lace was produced by Miss Burden, and arranged like a veritable canopy about the brow of Minerva.
“Admit Marchbanks,” said the voice from the bed.
The door opened and that personage was ushered in. Mr. Marchbanks merits a description quite as much as his mistress. Yet how to do justice to him, that is the problem. The poise of his bearing, his urbane reserve, his patrician demeanor were those of an ambassador. His whole being was enveloped in an air of high diplomacy. His most trivial action seemed to raise the ghost of Lord John Russell. Like his venerable mistress, he was a Whig to the core. He had been born, he had been bred, and by the grace of God he was determined to die in that tradition.
Under the left arm of Mr. Marchbanks was the Morning Post, which organ of opinion had been warmed by his own hands. In his right hand he bore a small silver dish. Upon it was a little pile of rather important-looking correspondence.
With the courtly grace of a bygone age, Mr. Marchbanks bowed to the occupant of the four-poster—old ladies who live in Hill Street do not put their faith in new furniture—and his venerable mistress was pleased to say—
“Good morning, Marchbanks.”
“Good morning, my lady,” said Mr. Marchbanks very gravely; and then said he with a benevolence that would have made a considerable fortune in Harley Street: “I trust your ladyship has slept well.”
“As well as one can expect at my age,” said the occupant of the four-poster.