"I told them you were in, Miss Jean, but they just paid no attention to me: and I do not think you have lost much, for they were too flyaway, and not of your kind. I hope there's cards enough: and this big letter, with a seal as large as Solomon's," said Simon.
She took them with another jump of her heart. The envelope was too big for the little tray on which he had placed it; it was half covered with a great blazon. The cards were inscribed with a name which it taxed all Jean's powers to make out. She was so moved that she made a confidant of Simon, having no one else to confide in.
"It's an invitation," she said, "for one of the grandest balls in all London."
Simon, for his part, looked down upon the magnificent enclosure without any excitement, with a cynical eye.
"It's big enough to be from the Queen," he said, "and it will keep ye up to a' the hours of the night, and the poor horse just hoasting his head off. You'll excuse me, Miss Jean, but I cannot help saying rather you than me."
"I should have thought, Simon," said Miss Jean, reproachfully, "that you would have had some feeling for Miss Lilias."
"Oh! I have plenty of feeling for Miss Lilias; but sitting up till two or three, or maybe four in the morning is good for nobody," Simon said.
Miss Jean could not keep still. As for work, that was impossible. She met Margaret at the door, when the little victoria drove up, with a countenance as pale as ashes.
"God bless me!" cried Margaret, in alarm, "what has happened?"
Jean thrust the cards and the envelope into her hands.