“That’s because you don’t give any yourself,” thought Elinor. “Just leave a few of those canes behind and things would go smoother.”
“This young woman,” continued the old eagle, pointing to Elinor with her cane—Elinor held up her head haughtily because she did not enjoy being under inspection in this way—“this high-bred, proud young woman looks as if she might have plenty of backbone.”
Elinor blushed slightly. After all, Mrs. Paxton-Steele had a flattering way with her that was not entirely unpleasant.
“Elinor, dear, have you met Mrs. Paxton-Steele?” asked Miss Campbell. “This is Elinor Butler, one of my most precious charges.”
“A very good name,” pursued the old lady. “Butler, a fine, Irish name. Perhaps, if you will excuse me, Madam, Mistress Elinor Butler will be good enough to walk with me about the garden. I do not notice that my granddaughter, Georgiana, is paying me much attention. What I like about you, child, is that you are not timid. Georgiana is like a frightened hare. She rushes under cover at the first loud noise.”
“Perhaps,” replied Elinor, feeling that it would do no harm to live up to this high opinion of courage, “perhaps Georgiana is afraid of your ebony stick.”
The old lady chuckled.
“Perhaps,” replied Elinor, “perhaps Georgiana
is afraid of your ebony stick.”