CHAPTER XXXI
A CHARIOT DRIVE
'Madam! the chariot is at the door.'
'Bless me! not dressed. I ordered it for three o'clock.'
'It is now on the stroke,' said Jesse.
'Dear, dear! the clock has stopped. Jesse, you forgot to wind it up last week.'
'I did not know it was my duty, mother.'
'It is always your duty when I forget to do it. I shall be ready instantly. Winefred—I understand that is your Christian name, and a very charming name it is—we will drop formality, and no more call you Miss Holwood—I will show you Bath, or the Bath, as it was wont to be called.'
'And the chemist's where the celebrated pill was compounded?' asked Jesse.
'My dear'—Mrs. Tomkin-Jones rose to her full height—'I hate profanity. Remember that your father wrote out the prescription, if you desire that your days may be long in the land. Now, Winefred, put on your things. Sylvana, are you coming?'
'No, mamma, not if I am to sit with my back to the horses.'