“I have brought my aunt with me,” said Aneta. “She would like to come in too in order to see Mrs. Martin.”
“Yes, miss; in course, miss. There’s no fire lit in the drawin’-room. But there’s the dinin’-room; it do smell a bit smoky, for master ’e loves ’is pipe. ’E smokes a lot in the dinin’-room, miss.”
“Show us into the dining-room,” said Aneta. She ran back to fetch Lady Lysle, and conducted that amazed and indignant woman into the house.
Tildy rushed upstairs to fetch her mistress. “You get into your best gown in no time, mum. There’s visitors downstairs—that most beauteous young lady who spoke to me yesterday at Aylmer House, and a lady alongside of ’er as ’u’d make yer ’eart quake. Ef Queen Victoria was alive I’d say yes, it was ’erself. Never did I mark such a sweepin’ and ’aughty manner. They’re fine folks, both of ’em, and no mistake.”
“Did they give their names?” asked Mrs. Martin.
“I didn’t even arsk, mum. They want to see you about our Miss Maggie.”
“Well, I will go down. What a queer, early hour for visitors! What dress shall I wear, Tildy?”
“I’d say the amber satin, mum, ef I’d a voice in the choice. You look elegant in it, mum, and you might ’ave your black lace shawl.”
“I don’t think I will wear satin in the morning,” said Mrs. Martin.
Tildy helped her into a dark-brown merino dress, one of her extensive trousseau. Mrs. Martin then went downstairs, prepared to show these visitors that she was “as good as them, if not better.” But the glimpse of the carriage and horses which she got through the lobby-window very nearly bowled her over.