“What purpose?” inquired Mrs Girdwood, her visitor’s remark having suggested the question. “Excuse me, sir, for asking.”
“I hope, madam, yaw will excuse me for telling yaw. In a conversation that occurred some days ago, yaw daughter expressed a wish to take a wide in one of our English cabwiolets. Am I wight, Miss Girdwood?”
“True,” assented Julia, “I did. I have a curiosity to be driven behind one of those high-stepping steeds!”
“If yaw will do me the fayvaw to look out of this window, I think yaw will see one that answers the descwiption.”
Julia glided up to the window; her mother going along with her. Miss Inskip did not stir from her seat.
Swinton’s turn-out was seen upon the street below: a cabriolet with a coat of arms upon the panel—a splendid horse between the shafts, pawing the pavement, chafing his bit, flinging the froth over his shining counter, and held in place by a miniature groom in top-boots and buckskins.
“What a pretty equipage?” exclaimed Julia. “I’m sure it must be pleasant to ride in?”
“Miss Girdwood; if yaw will do me the honaw—”
Julia turned to her mother, with a glance that said: “May I?”
“You may,” was the look given back by Mrs Girdwood. How could she refuse? Had not Mr Swinton denied the Honourable Geraldine, and given the preference to her daughter? An airing would do her good. It could do her no harm, in the company of a lord. She was free to take it.