The Honorable Miss: A Story of an Old-Fashioned Town

by L. T. Meade

"Yes, mother, I think they are," responded the daughter.

"And she took care not to tell her parent of any little lurking doubts which might come to her now and then with regard to the sincerity of those kind neighbors, who so often partook of the hospitality of the Gray House."

When they reached the lodge, old Mrs. Tester came out to open the gates. She nodded and smiled to Beatrice who had often been very kind to her, and Mrs. Meadowsweet bent forward in the cab to ask very particularly about the old woman's rheumatism. It was at that moment that Beatrice caught sight of a face framed in with jasmine and Virginia creeper, which looked at her from out of an upper casement window in Mrs. Tester's little lodge. The face with its half-tamed expression, the eager scrutiny in the eyes, which were almost too bold in their brightness, startled Beatrice and gave her a sense of uneasiness. The face came like a flash to the window and then disappeared, and at that same moment Davis started the cab forward with a jerk. It was to the credit of both Davis and his sorry-looking steed that they should make a good show in the avenue. For this they had been reserving themselves, and they went along now in such a heedless and almost frantic style that Mrs. Meadowsweet had her bonnet knocked awry, and the band-box which contained the precious cap absolutely dashed to the floor of the cab.

Beatrice had therefore no time to make any remark with regard to Mrs. Tester's unwonted visitor.

"This is delightful," said Mrs. Meadowsweet, as she clasped her hostess's hand, in the long, cool, refined-looking drawing-room. "I'm very glad to come, and it's most kind of you to invite me. Dear, dear, what a cool room! Wonderful! How do you manage this kind of effect, Mrs. Bertram? Dearie me—very pretty—very pretty indeed."

Here Mrs. Meadowsweet sank down on one of the sofas, and gazed round her with the most genuine delight.

"Where's Bee?" she said. "She ought to look round this room and take hints from it. We spent a lot of money over our drawing-room, but it never looks like this. Where are you, Beatrice?"

"Never mind now," responded Mrs. Bertram, whose voice, in spite of herself, had to take an extra well-bred tone when she spoke to Mrs. Meadowsweet. Miss Beatrice has just gone out with my girls, and I thought you and I would have tea here, and afterwards sit under the shade of that oak-tree and watch the children at their game."

"Very nice, I'm sure," responded Mrs. Meadowsweet. She spread out her fat hands on her lap and untied her bonnet-strings. "It's hot," she said. "Do you find the dog-days try you very much, Mrs. Bertram?"

"I don't feel the heat particularly," said Mrs. Bertram. She was anxious to assume a friendly tone, but was painfully conscious that her voice was icy.