"Really," he said, "really!"
"I do not mind it," continued Mrs. Brand; "but I am ashamed at the slur cast on our national hospitality. It is one of those things which, if related to me, I should have dismissed with the reply: 'Absurd—not English—absurd!' I am now compelled to acknowledge it as a melancholy fact, from which I cannot help drawing certain conclusions."
"Perhaps Miss Burns can enlighten us concerning the domestic arrangements of our eccentric relative," observed Mr. Thornton, turning to me.
"I have not been two hours in the house," I replied, smiling.
"Miss Burns!" exclaimed Mrs. Brand, with a start. "Really, Edward, I am surprised you did not mention it sooner. You know how I have longed to see our dear young cousin."
She tripped up to me as she spoke, and gave my hand a fervent squeeze.
Then looking at me through a gold eye-glass:
"My dear child," she said, "how well you look—not at all altered. Were I not so short-sighted, I should have known you anywhere—would not you, Edward?"
"No," he replied, quietly; "I find Miss Burns much altered; and if I recognised her, it was in spite of the change seven years have worked."
"Ah! very true," sighed Mrs. Brand. "Years pass, and the world goes on with all its vanities. My dear girl, have you really no idea of what we are to do for beds and a dinner?"
The moral sentiment had been uttered with slow abstraction, but the question relating to the things of the flesh, came out quite briskly.