Meanwhile, Herminia, Lady Barrasdaile, that spoiled child of fortune, having sworn at her meek maid and snubbed her doting Aunt Lucinda into angry revolt, sat scowling at the reflection of her beauteous self in the mirror, with this same scandalous “hateful” journal crumpled in passionate fist.
“O mem,” wailed the faithful Betty, “if you’d only took my advice——”
“Hold your tongue, creature!”
“Yes, my lady! But if you’d only not run away——”
“Peace, devilish female!”
“Yes, mem! But I told you how ’twould——”
Here my lady launched a hairbrush, whereat Betty squealed and vanished.
“Thou’rt so wild, Herminia!” exclaimed her diminutive aunt—“so woefully, wilfully wild! Such a masterful madcap like thy poor father before thee!”
“Would he were alive this day to ... cram this hateful thing down somebody’s throat!” cried my lady, hurling The Polite Monitor to the floor and stamping on it.