“Oh, dear!” said Patty, as soon as she could speak. “This isn’t the place to receive any one in. Jervis, why didn’t you show the lady into the morning-room? I can’t talk to you here, with all the servants about.”
“Don’t blame the man,” said Miss Hewitt; “I wanted to see you free, without stopping whatever you were doing. It’s not as if I were a mere visitor as couldn’t make allowances. I just like to see everything, and what it was like before, and what you’re doing. I know you, Patty. They won’t know it for the same ’ouse afore you’re done with it. Well, this is a nice room! but none too big for what you’ll want when you get things your own way. Greyshott won’t know itself with all the doings there’ll be.”
“Oh, but I can’t receive any lady here,” said Patty. “Let me take you into the morning-room; it’s where I always sit in the morning. I couldn’t possibly sit and talk with a caller before lunch in any other place. If you don’t mind I’ll show you the way.”
The butler held the door open with an obsequious air in which there was, as that functionary was well aware, an over-acting of his part—but that did not occur to the ladies who swept out, Patty in advance, and to whom it would scarcely have seemed too much if Jervis had walked backwards before them. He stayed behind to make his comment with uplifted hands and eyes upon the spectacle. “Lord, ain’t she a-going it!” said Jervis. It was, perhaps, not dignified for a person in his position to unbosom himself to the housemaids and the carpenter; but how could mortal man keep silent in circumstances so exciting? The ladies went to the morning-room in another frame of mind, both of them putting on silently their armour for the inevitable battle. When they had reached the room which was to be the scene of it, Miss Hewitt flung herself at once heavily into an easy chair. “Well! I call this a poky little place,” she cried. “You might have sent the servants away, Patty. I liked that other place much better. Morning-room! why it’s no better than my parlour,” she cried.
“It would only hold the whole of your house, kitchen and all,” cried Patty; “and it’s where I choose people to come,” she added decisively, “when they’ve that little sense as to come in the morning, when no lady receives.”
“Oh, that’s how I am to be met, is it?” said Miss Hewitt, “you little ungrateful wretch! It was nothing but dear aunt, and how good I was, when you came to me to help you. Ah! you had to come to me to help to secure him at the last—and him nothing but a Softy. If I had had somebody to stand for me like I did for you, Miss Patty, Greyshott would have been a very different place, and you’d never have got your nose in here!”
“Well, Aunt,” said Patty, “if those are your ideas, you can’t wonder that I shouldn’t want you. For if you had married Sir Giles, which I suppose is what you mean, and would never have let me get my nose in, you’ll understand that I don’t want your nose in. I wouldn’t have said it so plump if you hadn’t begun. Though I don’t believe Sir Giles ever thought of such a thing, now I know him well.”
“He’s not a Softy, you see,” said the angry old lady, with a snort.
“No,” said Patty, sedately; “he’s not a Softy. I should think he’d had a good deal of common-sense in his day. But I don’t want to quarrel,” she added; “whatever you may do. No doubt you’ve come about your money, which is quite natural. You shall have your money, Aunt Patience. It wasn’t so needful as I thought it would be, for Mr. Piercey had plenty for what was wanted; but, of course, I’m much obliged to you all the same.”
“Oh, Mr. Piercey: that’s what you call the Softy now!” cried Miss Hewitt, in high scorn.