“Certainly; but Bristol’s not the place for bargains,” said Miss Burrage; “you will find nothing tolerable, I assure you, my dear Lady Di., at Bristol.”
“Why, my dear,” said her ladyship, “were you ever at Bristol before? How comes it that I never heard that you were at Bristol before? Where were you, child?”
“At the Wells, at the Wells, ma’am,” replied Miss Burrage, and she turned pale and red in the space of a few seconds; but Lady Diana, who was very near-sighted, was holding her head so close to the blue band-box full of lace, that she could not see the changes in her companion’s countenance. The fact was, that Miss Burrage was born and bred in Bristol, where she had several relations, who were not in high life, and by whom she consequently dreaded to be claimed. When she first met Lady Diana Chillingworth at Buxton, she had passed herself upon her for one of the Burrages of Dorsetshire, and she knew that, if her ladyship was to discover the truth, she would cast her off with horror. For this reason, she had done every thing in her power to prevent Lady Di. from coming to Clifton; and for this reason she now endeavoured to persuade her that nothing tolerable could be met with at Bristol.
“I am afraid, Lady Di., you will be late at Lady Mary’s,” said she.
“Look at this lace, child, and give me your opinion—eight and twenty shillings, Mrs. Puffit, did you say?”
“Eight and twenty, my lady—and I lose by every yard I sell at that price. Ma’am, you see,” said Mrs. Puffit, appealing to Miss Burrage, “‘tis real Valenciennes, you see.”
“I see ‘tis horrid dear,” said Miss Burrage: then in a whisper to Lady Di. she added, “at Miss Trentham’s at the Wells, your ladyship will meet with such bargains!”
Mrs. Puffit put her lace upon the alabaster neck of the large doll which stood in the middle of her shop. “Only look, my lady—only see, ma’am, how beautiful becoming ‘tis to the neck, and sets off a dress too, you know, ma’am. And (turning to Miss Burrage) eight and twenty, you know, ma’am, is really nothing for any lace you’d wear; but more particularly for real Valenciennes, which can scarce be had real, for love or money, since the French Revolution. Real Valenciennes!—and will wear and wash, and wash and wear—not that your ladyship minds that—for ever and ever,—and is such a bargain, and so becoming to the neck, especially to ladies of your la’ship’s complexion.”
“Well, I protest, I believe, Burrage, I don’t know what to say, my dear—hey?”
“I’m told,” whispered Miss Burrage, “that Miss Trentham’s to have a lace raffle at the Wells next week.”