She started, and blushed with apprehension, as the door was briskly opened, and her daughter’s head thrust in. What if Annette should know what she had been thinking of?
“Ma,” said that young woman, “you had better wear a black grenadine, and the amethyst brooch and ear-rings.”
Having given this brief order, the girl banged the door in her energetic way; but, before it was well shut, opened it again.
“And pray, don’t thank the servants at table.”
Again the Mentor disappeared, and a second time came back for a last word. “O ma! I’ve given orders about the lemons and claret, and you’d better begin to-day, and see how you can get along with such diet. I wouldn’t eat much, if I were you. You’ve no idea how little food you can live upon till you try. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if you were to thin away beautifully.”
At last she departed in earnest.
Mrs. Ferrier lifted both hands, and raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Who ever heard,” she cried, “of anybody with an empty stomach sitting down to a full table, and not eating what they wanted?”
This poor creature had probably never heard of Sancho Panza, and perhaps it would not much have comforted her could she have read his history.
We pass over the toilet scene, where Nance, Miss Annette’s maid, nearly drove the simple lady distracted with her fastidious ideas regarding colors and shapes; and the dinner, where Mrs. Ferrier sat in bitterness of soul with a slice of what she called raw beef on her plate, and a tumbler of very much acidulated claret and water, in place of the foaming ale that had been wont to lull her to her afternoon slumber. These things did not, however, sweeten her temper, nor soften her resolutions. It may be that they rendered her a little more inexorable. It is certain that Mr. Gerald did not find her remarkably amiable during the repast, and was not sorry when she left the dining-room, where he and Louis Ferrier stopped to smoke a cigar.
She did not leave him in peace though, but planted a thorn at parting.