"Oh, ta, ta!"
The old gentleman had risen and was helping his sister-in-law on with her cloak, with somewhat asthmatic politeness.
"It was pure selfishness, Ottilie. Only that a man might get a drop fit to drink when one arrived here, weary and thirsty."
"Gertrude," whispered Jenny, taking her sister a little aside, "how can you be so foolish as to allow a young girl to be brought into the house? I tell you it is really dreadful; they are always in the way, they always want to be admired, they are always wanting to help and never fail to pay most touching attentions to the host. It is really inconsiderate of the old lady to impose her on you. Invent some excuse for keeping her away. I speak from experience, my love. Arthur invited a cousin once, you remember, I nearly died of vexation."
Gertrude laughed.
"Ah, Jenny," she said, shaking her head. The she hastened after her mother, who was already seated in the carriage.
"Come again soon," she said cordially, when Jenny had taken her seat also.
"I shall expect a visit from you next," was the reply. "You must be making a few calls in town some time."
"We haven't thought about it yet," cried Gertrude, gayly.
"Pray do see that Arthur gets home before the small hours. Uncle Henry never knows when to go," cried Jenny in a tone of vexation.