“She married a lord, O yeth. Me and Chrissy (poor lost dear!)—me and Chrissy went to see the wedding at Hanover Square, and grand it was to be sure, though I have heard my pa say that when he was married to my ma,—it is a good many yearth ago now,—that they walked on flowers and carpets for a quarter of a mile.”
Then suddenly remembering that she had serious cause for grief, Mrs. Dibble put her apron to her eyes and began to cry afresh.
“Oh, you know all about it then; when will you be ready?”
“Thath hard to say. I shall have a great deal to do to get ready, and I thent a few things to the wash, which it hath not been my custom to do of late, and I am sure——”
“Can you be ready in an hour?” asked Bales, interrupting her.
“An hour! Abthurd: you mutht be mad to think of thutch a thing, thir. I wath thinking of a week at leatht before I could be ready to appear in noble society at a castle, though when I wath a girl——”
“Never mind when you were a girl, Mrs. Dibble, just think of your husband; he is in prison, and perhaps you can help him; Montem Castle is close to Brazencrook.”
“O dear! what a hard-hearted man you mutht be to be thure, to remind me of that again just ath I wath a trying to think that all your newth wath not bad newth.”
And then Mrs. Dibble began to cry once more for decency’s sake.
“Will you be ready in the morning?—however you must; so there’s an end. Lady Verner wished that you would come to-day. You don’t suppose you are going to sit in the drawing-room, and all that sort of thing, with an earl and countess, eh? You will be the housekeeper’s visitor. Come, no more nonsense; say you will be ready in the morning.”