“Let me introduce you to my sister, Lady Sophia Spratte,” said the Canon to Mrs. Railing. “Miss Railing, my sister.”
“I’m really Miss Louise Railing, you know,” said that young lady, in a slightly injured tone.
“I ’ave two daughters, my lord,” explained Mrs. Railing, who felt that some ceremony was needed to address the member of a noble family, “but the elder one, Florrie, ain’t quite right in ’er ’ead. And we ’ad to shut ’er up in an asylum.”
The Canon observed her for one moment and shot a rapid glance at Winnie.
“It’s so fortunate that you were able to come,” he said. “In the Season one has so many engagements.”
But at the harmless remark Miss Railing bridled.
“I thought you people in the West End never did anything?”
Canon Spratte laughed heartily.
“The West End has a bad reputation—in Peckham Rye.”
“Well, I don’t know that I can say extra much for the people of Peckham Rye either. There’s no public spirit among them. And yet we do all we can; the Radical Association tries to stir them up. We give meetings every week—but they won’t come to them.”