It was over however at last, and when they had reached the drawing-room to which they were ushered, in almost as much form as they left it, though their conductor was now only the groom of the chambers, Emma hoped she might find some little relief from insipidity: nor was she disappointed; whilst Lady Osborne was sipping coffee, and prosing to Mrs. Willis, her daughter drew her younger guests into a smaller room, which she assured them was her own particular domain; here establishing themselves comfortably round the ample fire, they fell into a lively and pleasant chat, such as any three girls might be expected to do; presently they were joined by Miss Carr.
"Your lady-mother," said she, "is so deep in village politics with Mrs. Willis, that I am sure I must be de trop there, and I have, therefore, absconded here."
She seated herself as she spoke in the chimney corner on a low ottoman, and spreading out her hands to the fire; she said—
"Don't let me stop you unless you were talking of me, Miss Emma Watson, it is your turn—what do you think?"
"Think of what?" enquired Emma, rather startled by the keen eyes fixed on her—it seemed always her fate to be stared at unmercifully.
"Think, oh, of anything—of Mr. Howard for instance—what do you think of him?"
"That he carves very well," returned Emma laughing.
"Well, that is something—a good quality in the master of a house; I commend it seriously to your attention."
"I should think the gentlemen would not sit very long," observed Miss Osborne, "and when they come we must all adjourn to the drawing-room, for mama will wish to sit down to cards. I hope you can play cards."
Her visitors assented, Elizabeth asserting that she was very fond of them.