“What do you think?” he said. “Hannah has got a white satin favour pinned upon her dress. Would you believe it? What a turncoat she is!”
“She’s not,” I answered. “She had to do it. We must be outwardly civil.”
“Yes, yes; that’s it,” said Alex.
“And for the sake of the supper it’s worth while,” said Charley.
The hall door was opened. My father’s step was heard coming in; this was followed by a lighter, much younger step. Then a cheerful voice said, “Well, here we are.—And you are Hannah, I think? I have often heard of you.”
“The hypocrite!” I muttered; but Alex said, “Hush! Remember our compact.”
“I have often heard of you,” said the cheerful voice. “How do you do?”
Hannah’s reply was so muttered that it could not be heard in the parlour. Then father said, “Where are the children? Dumps! Alex! Charley! Come along at once!”
We all made a rush to the parlour door. We had to rush or we should not have moved at all. We went into the hall. I felt at that supreme moment that if I had not known Miss Grace Donnithorne in the past, and had not really liked her very much, not to say almost loved her, I could have borne my present position better. But having already known her, the present position was almost unbearable. Nevertheless, things that seem unbearable have now and then to be faced in life. My father called in his cheerful tones, “Well, children, well! here we are back. Here’s your new mother. I trust you will all be as dutiful as she deserves. I am sure it is very good of her to come and look after such harum-scarums as you are. Now then, Dumps, you give her a right royal welcome.”
“How do you do?” I said.