After running off this speech, with an air and a volubility worthy of her betters, she set before Lucy some of her bargains, and was then retreating to make herself decent; but Lucy stopped her, by saying, “My dear Mrs. Ludgate, I am sorry to detain you, but Mr. Beech, the upholsterer, knowing I have been acquainted with you, has sent me to speak to you about his bill. He is in immediate want of money, because he is fitting out one of his sons for the East Indies.”
“Well! but his son’s nothing to me! I sha’n’t think of paying the bill yet, I can assure him; and you may take it back, and tell him so.”
“But,” said Lucy, “if I take back such an answer, I am afraid Mr. Beech will send the bill to Mr. Ludgate; and that was what you particularly desired should not be done.”
“Why, no; that’s what I can’t say I should particularly wish, just at present,” said Mrs. Ludgate, lowering her tone “because, to tell you a bit of a secret, Lucy, I’ve run up rather an unconsciable bill, this year, with my milliner and mantua-maker; and I would not have all them bills come upon him all in a lump, and on a sudden, as it were; especially as I laid out more on the furniture than he counts. So, my dear Lucy, I’ll tell you what you must do: you must use your influence with Beech to make him wait a little longer. I’m sure he may wait well enough; and he shall be paid next month.”
Lucy declared that her influence, on the present occasion, would be of no avail; but she had the good-nature to add, “If you are sure the bill can be paid next month, I will leave my two years’ salary in Mr. Beech’s hands till then; and this will perhaps satisfy him, if he can get bills from other people paid, to make up the money for his son. He said thirty guineas from you on account would do, for the present; and that sum is due to me.”
“Then, my dearest Lucy, for Heaven’s sake, do leave it in his hands! You were a good creature to think of it; but you always were a good creature.”
“Your mother used to be kind to me, when I was a child; and I am sure I ought not to forget it,” said Lucy, the tears starting into her eyes: “and you were once kind to me; I do not forget that,” continued Lucy, wiping the tears from her cheeks.—“But do not let me detain you; you are in a hurry to dress to go to Mrs. Pimlico’s.”
“No—pray—I am not in a hurry now,” said Mrs. Ludgate, who had the grace to blush at this instant. “But, if you must go, do take this hat along with you. I assure you it’s quite the rage: I got it this morning at Run and Raffle’s, and Mrs. Pimlico and Mrs. Paget have got the same.”
Lucy declined accepting the hat, notwithstanding this strong and, as Mrs. Ludgate would have thought it, irresistible recommendation. “Now you must have it: it will become you a thousand times better than that you have on,” cried Mrs. Ludgate, insisting the more the more Lucy withdrew; “and, besides, you must wear it for my sake. You won’t? Then I take it very ill of you that you are so positive; for I assure you, whatever you may think, I wish to be as kind to you now as ever. Only, you know, one can’t always, when one lives in another style, be at home as often as one wishes.”
Lucy relieved her ci-devant friend from the necessity of making any more awkward apologies, by moving quickly towards the door. “Then you won’t forget,” continued Mrs. Ludgate, following her into the passage, “you won’t forget the job you are to do for me with Beech?”