No—Anne was impenetrable.
“Then I’ll go by myself,” cried Lady Frances, pettishly—“I’ll take Pritchard with me, in our own carriage, and I’ll speak about it directly—for go I must and will.”
“Now, Frances, what new fancy is this for Mrs. Hungerford? I am sure you used not to care about her,” said Lady Anne.
“And I dare say I should not care about her now,” replied Lady Frances, “but that I am dying to see an old pair of shoes she has.”
“An old pair of shoes!” repeated Lady Anne, with a look of unutterable disdain.
“An old pair of shoes!” cried Mrs. Falconer, laughing.
“Yes, a pair of blue damask shoes as old as Edward the Fourth’s time—with chains from the toe to the knee, you know—or do you know, Count Altenberg? Miss Percy was describing them—she saw Colonel Hungerford put them on—Oh! he must put them on for me—I’ll make him put them on, chains and all, to-morrow.”
“Colonel Hungerford is on his way to India by this time,” said Georgiana Falconer, drily.
“May I ask,” said Count Altenberg, taking advantage of the first pause in the conversation—“may I ask if I understood rightly, that Mrs. Hungerford, mother of Colonel Hungerford, lives in this neighbourhood, and is coming into the country to-morrow?”
“Yes—just so,” said Lady Frances.