Mr. Edwards did not, any further, provoke his wife by persevering on this subject, and the rest of the dinner passed calmly and uneventfully away.
Mrs. Edwards, anxious to secure a comfortable seat by the fire, was determined to be, as usual, very early in the ball-room—and her husband was roused from his after-dinner nap, to accompany them—which he unwillingly did; after settling his cravat and arranging his wig at the glass, which surmounted the drawing-room chimney-piece. The coach conveyed them very safely to the assembly rooms in the Red Lion; and as they were mounting the stairs in the dark, for they were so early that the lamp in the lobby was not lighted, the door of a bed-room was suddenly opened, and a young man appeared in dishabille.
"Ha! Mrs. Edwards!" said he, "early, as usual! you always take care to be the first in the field. When you come, I know it is time for me to dine; but I think I must dress first—don't you think so?"
Mrs. Edwards replied by begging they might not interrupt him in so necessary an occupation; and, with a formal bow, passed on—looking round anxiously to see whether her two young charges were following.
"Do you know him?" whispered Mary.
"No," replied Emma, in the same tone.
"It is Tom Musgrove," said Miss Edwards, a little louder, as they advanced further from the vicinity of his apartment.
"Mr. Musgrove," said her mother, with a peculiar emphasis.
Mary blushed and was silent.