“Oh, what sort of things to see! Places where things have happened that nobody knows anything about, or if one ever heard of them one has forgotten. I don’t call that amusing,” said Nancy. “There are very handsome shops, but I did not care much for French taste, do you? they are so fond of dingy colours; nothing clean-looking nor bright. I was so glad to get back to England.”
“So was I,” said the Curate’s wife, “when we were abroad; but I thought it all so interesting. I did enjoy it when we were there. The very names of the places that one had read about in history!”
“I never read history,” said Nancy, carelessly. “I like to see things happening now; and nothing seemed to happen, but just hearing about old dusty rubbish. Oh, yes, the streets were nice. Arthur says that in summer there are races, and amusements, and concerts out of doors, and all that sort of thing, but it was too cold when we were there. I went to hear the men speaking in Parliament, but it was dull; what is the good of listening to long speeches? One of Arthur’s friends took us—Sir John Denham—you may have heard of him. He was always offering us boxes for the theatre, but that was dull too.”
“I am afraid you were difficult to please,” said Mrs. Eagles; but the Curate’s wife began to listen with a certain interest. It is always pleasant to hear familiarly about the Sir Johns of this world.
“Yes, they all said I was difficult to please,” said Nancy, sweeping out of the chair she had just chosen, and nearly knocking down a small table on which stood a lamp. “Did you get your furniture from town, Mrs Eagles? Did you have one of the tip-top upholsterers to do it, or did you pick up things cheap?”
“I am afraid we tried as much as we could to pick up things cheap,” said Mrs. Eagles, restraining the inclination to laugh which was gaining upon her. The other young woman was listening anxiously, seeing no fun in it, and their entertainer thought she liked Mrs. Arthur best.
“I thought so,” said Nancy, calmly, fixing her eyes upon an Italian cabinet which was the pride of the house, “but I should just put my house into the hands of some tip-top man. I don’t like making up with part old and part new. I shall have everything of the best and the newest fashion,” she said, looking round with a delightful glow of complaisant superiority. But then she was Sir John Curtis’s daughter-in-law, and Mrs. Eagles was but a schoolmaster’s wife.
CHAPTER XIV.
“PARTY! it was no party at all!” said Nancy, “I have just been giving Arthur a piece of my mind. If he thinks I am going to take the trouble to have a dress made, and go out among folks I don’t know, to meet the Curate and his wife! why, we are just as good as they are! or rather, I should say, a deal better.” She was sitting over the fire next morning, by no means pleased with her entertainment. Now, indeed, was the time when she felt it most—for it had been sweet to think of dazzling her mother and sisters with an account of the grand ladies of the Green; and there was nothing now to comment upon, save poor little Mrs. Curate in her muslin frock! Arthur was in the room behind, shut off with folding doors from this; and she spoke loud that he might have the benefit of her remarks.
“The Curate!” said Mrs. Bates, “my dear, it’s no compliment, it’s an insult to ask you; as if you are not good enough to meet the best.”