Mrs. Brown stares hard.
“You do my girl a great honour, miss, but her head’s turned too crazy as ’tis. Poor folks, miss, ain’t got no place with rich ’uns.”
“That is a rather narrow feeling, Mrs. Brown,” says Cicely; “and surely your daughter ought to begin to know Mr. Bertram’s friends and relatives?”
“She won’t never be nought to Mr. Bertram, miss,” replies Mrs. Brown, very confidently. “’Tis a pack of stuff their thinkin’ on it. Lord, my lady, if you only see his shirts, that fine as cobwebs is coarse to ’em!”
Lady Jane is much diverted.
“She evidently does not believe in the seriousness of Bertram’s intentions, Cicely.”
Mrs. Brown tucks her basket under her arm.
“You’ll excuse me, my ladies, if I don’t stay to prate. Us poor folks ’even’t got time to lose in gossip; and if you can give me work, ’m, I’ll be truly thankful to you, ma’am—Eliza Brown, 20, Little Double Street, back o’ Portman Square. Your servant, ladies.”
With that she bobs a curtsey and departs.
“A nice honest woman,” says Cicely.