“Without doubt, ma’am,� rejoined the butler. “There’s a feverish anxiety to get the greatest amount of information in the shortest possible time, and an equally ardent determination to finger what isn’t meant to be fingered, price what can’t be priced, and buy what isn’t for sale, which, to my mind, is a trademark distinguishing the bearer, male or female, as hailing from the other side of the Atlantic.�
“Even if he didn’t call me ‘marm’—if he’s a man and middle-aged, and put American dollars in the box instead of English half-crowns if he happens to be a lady,� continued Mrs. Ansdey. “But what I will say is, if it was with my latest breath, that the young ladies are most elegant and have a real appreciation for old and what you might call romantic things,� she added somewhat hastily; and the Rector’s wife said, as she added sugar to her fourth cup:
“The new Lady Wroth is an American, I have always understood.�
“Born in Washington, but edicated in Paris,� said Mr. Cradell, putting a fresh log of apple-wood upon the glowing fire at the lower end of the hall.
“She comes of a fine old family, we have always understood,� said the housekeeper, smoothing her lace apron with her plump white hands. “Rutherfoord her maiden name was, and with her beauty and her jewels—for her late papa was a Senator, besides being what I’ve heard called a Railway King—she created a sensation when she was presented by the Duchess of Balgowrie last May but one.�
“As to her style of good looks,� said Mr. Cradell, dusting lichen from his coat, “Sir Vivian was always partial to dark beauty. ‘What is she like?’ says he to me when I took the liberty of asking, as an old servant may. ‘A black pearl, Cradell, and I hope to wear my jewel in my bonnet as my ancestor Sir Guy wore Queen Elizabeth’s ruby—until the day I die!’ He’d a light in his eyes when he said it, and what with love and happiness and all, he looked more like a boy of twenty-three than a man of forty. And I said to Mrs. Ansdey, ‘If ever there was a love-match,’ I says, ‘Sir Vivian’s is one.’ And now the carriage is waiting at the station to bring home both the master and the mistress—bless them both!�
“She wrote to me from Mentone,� went on Mrs. Ansdey, “and I truly call it a pretty thought, and a gracious one, of me that have been my master’s nurse, and held him on my knees when he picked out bounding ‘B’ and curly ‘Q’ with an ivory crotchet-hook.� She produced from a morocco pocketbook, of solid and responsible appearance, a letter written with violet ink on thin, foreign paper, in delicate upright characters. “‘My husband has told me of all your faithful service and true devotion to him and his,’ she read; ‘and I hope before long to take your kind hand in mine and thank you for him and for myself!’ There now!�
“Gracious and graceful too,� said old Cradell, who had beaten noiseless time to the reading of the young mistress’s letter with one wrinkled finger on a withered palm. “Good breeding there—and old blood—in every line!�
“And she looks forward to seeing her husband’s dear old English home,� went on the housekeeper, “and prays God to give them many days in it together—and I trust He will!�
“Let us hope so, for all concerned!� said the Rector’s wife, who resented theological references as trenching upon her own particular province.