Then they kissed her and went away, and presently Sylvester brought her up a dainty luncheon.
"Whose picture is that?" she ventured to ask, as Sylvester busied himself in setting out the table by the fire, and arranging the tray.
"That is Mrs. Ackerman's only daughter," replied Sylvester. "She was a sweet, pretty young lady, and favoured her mother as much as you do yours."
"I think Cousin Margaret looks like mamma," said Percy.
"The very picture of her. I've often said that very thing myself," replied Sylvester, evidently pleased with being talked to. "Miss Margaret and your ma were near about of an age, and more like sisters than aunt and niece. You see, your aunt—the first lady, as I may say—was much older than your ma; and after your grandma died, she took the charge of her. She was a splendid lady, was the first Mrs. Ackerman; and the second is just as good, only different—more quiet and gentle like, and apt to believe everything anybody tells her. The way them beggars and folks does impose on her! Do you like stewed oysters, Miss?"
"Very much."
"Then you are just suited, for here they are. I told Symantha I guessed you would like something kind of hot and comfortable; and she thought of oysters the very first thing. Symantha, she's my wife, and Drusilla, the chambermaid, she's our girl. We've got a boy, too, but he works out for himself. Just ring the bell, Miss, when you want anything." And Sylvester departed, coming back again presently with the evening papers.
Percy was hungry, and she ate her oysters and drank her coffee with great satisfaction, thinking, as she did so, that the dreadful part of her visit had not begun as yet. Aunt Ackerman was not in the least like the image she had formed in her own mind; which image was modelled principally on that fashionable city aunt to be found, I believe, only in a certain class of story-books. Milly Russell's aunt, in the story of "The Broken Saucer," had been very wicked and worldly, and had treated Milly with such scorn and contempt, because the said Milly had read her Bible on Sundays. But Aunt Ackerman, though she was beautifully dressed, and lived in such a fine house, did not seem as if she could be either scornful or unkind.
"And I am sure it was very good in her to fit up this pretty room for me, next her own," thought Percy; "and I am sure Cousin Margaret looks good. Oh, dear, I hope they will like me. I wish I was fair and rosy, like the little girl in the picture."
Percy's meditations were here interrupted by a sound as of a cat scratching to be let in. She arose and opened the door, to admit a beautiful great Persian or Angora cat, with very long hair and long, bushy tail; the most superb pussy that Percy had ever seen, and followed by an equally pretty kitten. Percy loved all kinds of pets, cats and kittens especially.