"Of course not," replied Emma; "for doing what you think right, who could?"
"I am sure," continued this anxious mother, in a tone of great complacency, "I don't know how the poor little darling will get on without me; she almost cried her eyes out when she found she was not coming in the chaise, and I was obliged to pretend I was only going to church, and should be home again very soon."
"Oh, sweet little darling!" cried Margaret; "I do so dote on that child—little angel!"
Just at this moment, the brother entered the room.
"I say, Jane," cried he, "that confounded band-box of yours is squeezed as flat as a pancake, and your new trunk is too wide to go up these wretched narrow stairs; so what you are to do I am sure I don't know—dress in the hall, I suppose."
"My band-box squeezed!" cried the lady, in dismay. "I have no doubt my caps are all ruined absolutely: what shall I do!—how could it happen to my band-box!"
"Do anything but bother me about it, that's all. Ah, Emma," holding out his hand to his sister, "how do you do. It's a good while since we met, isn't it? I suppose, Elizabeth, I may go up at once and see my father before dinner?"
Elizabeth assented, and the whole party seemed about to separate.
"I suppose, Elizabeth," said Margaret, in a tone whose sharpness jarred on Emma's ear and contrasted with the softness of her voice to herself, "there's no letter for me from Kew, is there? But I dare say if there were, you would not think of giving it to me for an hour."
Elizabeth assured her there was none, and then quitted the room, to accompany her sister-in-law, and assist her toilette.