Isabella and Matilda came, but Mrs. Harcourt finished dressing herself in silence, and then said—
“Come with me, my dear girls, to Mad. de Rosier’s room. I believe I had better ask her the question that I was going to ask you. Is she up?”
“Yes, but not dressed,” said Matilda; “for we have been reading to her.”
“And talking to her,” added Isabella; “which, you know, hinders people very much, mamma, when they are dressing.”
At Mad. de Rosier’s door they found Herbert, with his slate in his hand, and his sum ready cast up.
“May I bring this little man in with me?” said Mrs. Harcourt to Mad. de Rosier—“Herbert, shake hands with me,” continued his mother: “I believe I was a little impatient with you and your Cyrus last night; but you must not expect that every body should be as good to you as this lady has been;” leading him up to Mad. de Rosier.
“Set this gentleman’s heart at ease, will you?” continued she, presenting the slate, upon which his sum was written, to Mad. de Rosier. “He looks the picture, or rather the reality, of honesty and good humour this morning, I think. I am sure that he has not done any thing that he is ashamed of.”
Little Herbert’s countenance glowed with pleasure at receiving such praise from his mother; but he soon checked his pride, for he discovered Favoretta, upon whom every eye had turned, as Mrs. Harcourt concluded her speech.
Favoretta was sitting in the furthest corner of the room, and she turned her face to the wall when Herbert looked at her; but Herbert saw that she was in disgrace. “Your sum is quite right, Herbert,” said Mad. de Rosier.
“Herbert, take your slate,” said Matilda; and the young gentleman had at length the politeness to relieve her outstretched arm.