'Where have you been?'
'O, you've been going over a mill! A cotton mill? Horrid! What is the fun of a cotton mill? what did you go there for?'
'What sort of a mill have you been over?' said Hazel.
'O, the silk mill. Such lovely colours, and cunning little silk-winders,—it's so funny! But where have you been all this age, Hazel? you have been nowhere.'
'I know what has happened,' said Josephine Powder, looking half vexed and half curious,—'you needn't tell me anything. When a lady sees almost nobody and goes riding with the rest, we know what that means. It's transparent.'
'I wouldn't conclude upon it, Hazel,' said another lady. 'A man that had got a habit of command by being one's guardian, you know, wouldn't leave it off easy. Would he, Mrs. Powder?'
'Are we to congratulate you, my dear?' asked the ex-Governor's lady, with a civil smile, and an eye to the answer.
'Really, ma'am, I see no present occasion?' said Hazel, with more truth than coolness.
'She sees no occasion!' cried Josephine. 'Well, I shouldn't either in her place.' (Which was a clear statement that grapes were sour.) 'Poor child! Are you chained up for good, Hazel?'
'Hush, Josephine?' said her mother, who was a well-bred woman; such women can have such daughters now-a-days. And she went on to invite Hazel to join a party that were going in the afternoon to visit a famous look-out height, called Beacon Hill. She begged Hazel to come for luncheon, and the excursion afterwards.