“And you remember the last evening, Friday last, when we were in the study, at the table, you know, where the word ‘eminently’ came. Do you remember?”
“Well, I ought to, I’m sure; but my old head is not as good at bringing a thing to mind as it used to be,” hesitated Winnie.
“No more it is; but the word eminently was all we got that night, and you didn’t know what the question was. Well, I’ll tell you. I asked simply, will Violet Darkwell’s marriage—hook my body, please—will Violet Darkwell’s marriage prove happy? and the answer was eminently.”
“Ay, so it was, I’ll be bound, though I can’t bring it to mind; but it’s a hard word for the like o’ me to come round.”
“You are provoking, Winnie Dobbs,” exclaimed her mistress, looking at herself defiantly in the glass.
“Well, dear me! I often think I am,” acquiesced Winnie.
“Well, Winnie, we are too old to change much now—the leopard his spots, and the Ethiopian his skin. There’s no good in trying to teach an old dog tricks. They must make the best of us now, Winnie, such as we are; and if this wedding does happen, I’ll trick you out in a new dress, silk every inch, for the occasion, and the handsomest cap I can find in Saxton. I’ll make you such a dandy, you’ll not know yourself in the looking-glass. You’ll come to the church as her own maid, you know, but you’re not to go away with her. You’ll stay with me, Winnie. I don’t think you’d like to leave Gilroyd.”
Old Winnie hereupon witnessed a good and kindly confession.
