“I declare Mrs Gridley is right,” said he. “We are a rising family. I hope you gave that lady a chance to peep into this note, when she was here to-day. But how is this? Miss Elliott. Have you one, Rosie?”
Rose shook her head.
“No. Have you, Harry?”
“Have I? What are you thinking of, Rose? Do you suppose those lofty portals would give admission to one who is only a humble clerk? It is only for such commercial successes as Mr Green, or Allan Ruthven, that that honour is reserved. But never mind, Rosie. We shall find something to amuse us that night, I have no doubt.”
“Graeme is not going,” said Rose.
“Not going! Oh! she’ll think better of it.”
“No, she has sent her refusal.”
“And why, pray?”
“Oh! one can’t go everywhere, as Mrs Gridley says,” replied Graeme, thus appealed to.
“Yes; but Mrs Gridley said that with regard to a gathering of our good friend, Willie Birnie, the tailor. I can understand how she should not find time to go there. But how you should find time to shine on that occasion, and have none to spare for Mrs Roxbury’s select affair, is more than I can comprehend.”