"Let's go, Lizzie," said her cousin. "Will you take me too,
Mr. Brick? — Mr. Satterthwaite, I mean."
Mr. Satterthwaite declared himself honoured, prospectively; Elizabeth put no objection of her own in the way; and the scheme was agreed on.
The morrow came, and at the proper hour the trio repaired to the City Hall and mounted its high white steps.
"Don't you feel afraid, Lizzie, to be coming here?" said her cousin. "I do."
"Afraid of what, Mrs. Haye?" inquired their attendant.
"O I don't know, — it looks so; — it makes me think of prisoners and judges and all such awful things!"
Mr. Satterthwaite laughed, and stole a glance beyond Mrs. Haye to see what the other lady was thinking of. But Elizabeth said nothing and looked nothing; she marched on like an automaton beside her two companions, through the great halls, one after another, till the room was reached and they had secured their seats. Then certainly no one who had looked at her face would have taken it for an automaton. Though she was as still as a piece of machine-work, except the face. Rose was in a fidget of business, and the tip of her bonnet's white feather executed all manner of arcs and curves in the air, within imminent distance of Mr. Satterthwaite's face.
"Who's who? — and where's anybody, Mr. Satterthwaite," she inquired.
"That's the Chancellor, sitting up there at the end, do you see? — Sitting alone, and leaning back in his chair."
"That?" said Rose. "I see. Is that Chancellor Justice? A fine- looking man, very, isn't he?"