“I say, Maria, you are not to go to Scotland,” struck in Isaac.
“Who says so?” cried Maria, her heart standing still, as she halted in one corner of the room with at least half a dozen arms round her.
“Mamma said yesterday she thought you were not: that papa would not have it.”
“Is that all?” and Maria’s pulses coursed on again. “I am to go: I have just been with papa and mamma. They know that I have come to get my things for the journey.”
“Maria, who goes?”
“Sir George and my lady, and I and Charlotte Pain.”
“Maria, I want to know why Charlotte Pain goes?” cried Grace.
Maria laughed. “You are like Bessy Godolphin, Grace. She asked the same question, and my lady answered, ‘Because she chose to invite her.’ I can only repeat to you the same reason.”
“Does George Godolphin go?”
“No,” replied Maria.