“A most unfortunate mistake has been made, Mr. Marchbanks,” said Mrs. Plunket to that ambassador. “Miss Perry is her ladyship’s niece.”
To say that a feather would have knocked Mr. Marchbanks over is to state the case lightly. Yet even in the depths of his consternation he directed a glance of solemn unbelief at the preposterous hat.
“Announce Miss Perry’s arrival to her ladyship,” said Mrs. Plunket, “but do not mention anything else.”
Mr. Marchbanks was besieged with doubt as he made his way to the blue drawing-room. In spite of Mrs. Plunket’s sensational statement, incredulity still reigned in his mind. It was possible that a hideous error had been committed; and yet in the ripeness of his judgment he clearly foresaw the possibility of committing another. He had Mrs. Plunket’s authority that the nondescript creature who had come with a corded box in a four-wheel cab, who wore an unseemly hat, unmentionable gloves and boots, and who had attempted to shake hands with him, was her ladyship’s niece; but all the same he had his own opinion.
Mr. Marchbanks entered the blue drawing-room on the horns of a dilemma. It was difficult to know what line to take.
He was glad to observe that her ladyship was alone with her gentlewoman. They were engaged in a game of piquet; and the gentlewoman was just about to be rubiconed, an indignity she suffered on an average three times a day.
Mr. Marchbanks approached his mistress, and having waited while she claimed two for the last trick, said—
“A young person of the name of Perry is arrived, my lady.”
Her ladyship looked at Mr. Marchbanks bleakly.
“What is that to do with me?” she said.