‘So I had, but it does not suit me. Put it on now,’ to the young woman, who trembled visibly, but who obeyed at once.
It was undoubtedly the bonnet, and it sat upon Miss Shuttleworth’s head like a plume upon a hearse. No other comparison is for a moment admissible. Slowly, and with dignity, she turned her head this way and that; and before formulating her objections, condescended to greet Wellfield.
‘Good-afternoon, Mr. Wellfield. Have you come to help my niece to choose a bonnet?’
‘Yes,’ said Jerome, composedly.
‘I am sure you look as if you would give her valuable assistance in such a matter,’ was the reply, ambiguous in its nature. Was it to be considered complimentary, or otherwise? Jerome, with a gravity as imperturbable as her own, said he should feel highly honoured if he could be of any use to Miss Shuttleworth in the same matter. She turned away with a jerk. Having always had a monopoly in the sphere of disagreeable, if dubious remarks, she did not appreciate this intrusion on a province peculiarly her own.
‘Nita,’ she said, sharply, ‘don’t you see what is wrong with this bonnet? It’s like a plume on a hearse.’
‘It suits you admirably, Miss Shuttleworth,’ said Jerome, blandly.
‘You must alter the feathers,’ said Miss Shuttleworth to the young woman; ‘you must make them lie flatter. You understand what I mean. Otherwise I shall never enter your shop again. Now, Nita,’ as she removed the bonnet, and reached her hand for her old one, ‘what do you want? Let us see whether, with Mr. Wellfield’s assistance, we cannot find something suitable. Poor John never could have helped anyone to choose a bonnet,’ she added, pointedly.
Nita’s face flushed. Miss Shuttleworth continued to say disagreeable things, and Nita to grow more and more embarrassed, and the more disagreeable the one became, and the more confused the other, the more utterly calm and self-possessed remained Jerome Wellfield; nor did he allow a single sharp speech of Miss Shuttleworth’s to go unanswered, nor did he abstain from paying a single compliment to Nita, in consideration of the new and discordant element introduced. The whole affair, a mere joke at the commencement, had grown more serious; for Jerome’s manner, in proportion as he was goaded by Miss Shuttleworth’s shafts, grew more empressé towards Nita, while she, confused with the danger they had passed through, intoxicated and bewildered by the look which occasionally met hers when she encountered Jerome’s eyes, anxious to conceal all her emotion from her aunt, scarcely knew where she was or what she was doing. Nothing suited her: at last she threw off a bonnet which the young woman had tried her on, and said hastily and decidedly that she would call again another day. She was tired, and could not decide upon anything then.
‘Not even with Mr. Wellfield’s help?’ inquired Miss Shuttleworth, blandly.