'I don't recognise the description I heard of that family,' observed Lady Grace Cunningham; 'and it just shows that one must never believe what one hears, for according to you and Nanny they were very different.'
'Yes; I noticed that. And young Clay, too, is not in the least like Maxwell's description of him. He said the young man was an easy-going fellow, who looked always half-asleep, as if life was a bore to live, and was only fit to lounge in fashionable drawing-rooms. I shall ask him what he means,' said her husband.
'But that's how Sarah talked of him. I expect he's changed, and so is she; in fact, they are all changed,' declared Horatia.
'But you told me Mrs Clay was a meek, trodden-down creature, and Mr Clay a rather violent man, and that Sarah could not bear him. And as for Nanny's description, it was worse still, and I find Mrs Clay very different, and Sarah is devoted to her parents, especially her father.'
'I know,' agreed Horatia, nodding her head. 'I was so astonished that my eyes nearly dropped out of my head. But it's the fire that has done it. It's burst up all their bad qualities. I can tell you it was pretty uncomfortable last time I stayed there; and when you tell Nanny your opinion of them, she'll say a miracle must have happened.'
'I think they have been having a hard struggle. The young fellow betrayed it when he showed that full warehouse. I heard something about it. There is a feeling against them. Even our shipping people objected to trading with them. But I'm glad I persuaded them; it may give them a lift, and one thing leads to another.'
'Yes; and you must make that shade the fashion, mother. Wear it at your big reception, will you?' begged Horatia.
'And get it copied at once?' laughed her mother.
'Yes, because Mr Clay was so kind to me. Think of that rink that he had made just to please me!' cried Horatia.
'Ah, that was a waste of money! They won't be able to throw their money about like that for some time to come,' said Mr Cunningham, shaking his head.