"Nay, child—faith, my poor senses do so twitter I scarce know what I say—but its wicked wild eyes! And it curled its horrid tail in monstrous threatening fashion! And O, thank heaven—a man!"
Here the agitated lady tottered towards the Major and, supported by his arm, sank down upon the bench and closing her eyes, gasped feebly.
"Madam!" he exclaimed, bending over her in great alarm.
"O lud!" she murmured faintly.
"By heaven, she's swooning!" exclaimed the Major.
"Nay, sir," sighed Lady Betty, "'tis no swoon nor even a faint, 'tis merely a twitter. Dear aunt will be herself again directly—so come let me sew on that button or I'll prick you, I vow I will!"
At this Lady Belinda, opening her languid eyes, stared and gasped again.
"Mercy of heaven, child!" she exclaimed, "what do you?"
"Sew on this gentleman's buttons, aunt!"
"Buttons, child! Heaven above!"