“I have a mind to send it back to her,” cried Eda, in French. “What gross impertinence!”
“Ignorance, sister; she knew no better, and I told you I expected nothing from Mrs. Jones,” said Fanny. “Do let us go, dear Eda! I cannot help it now, I must laugh! Come”—and she led the way out, observing that she ought to forgive it, as Mrs. Jones had not yet unlearned her _habitudes de chaumière_. The door stood open, and behind it was Mrs. Jones, intent upon hearing what comments were passed by Mrs. Hill, when she found herself “neglected.” She had the great satisfaction of knowing that she was seen, for Fanny’s merry eyes rested full upon her; and she was somewhat disappointed as she heard the sweet, silver laugh that echoed behind them as the carriage rolled away.
This was not pleasant, but Mrs. Jones remembered that Mrs. Hill saw no one now, “and, of course, Miss Seymour wont come when her sister is not invited. I wish I had not kept on this old gown, since they spied me out; but, lor! it don’t make any difference. I wonder what they said, too; I couldn’t tell from here.”
She asked Cilla; but Cilla replied that “they didn’t talk Merrican, and how could _she_ understand? But I tell you what, Miss Sarly, I didn’t like to invite one ’thout tother; and I felt very oncomfortable ’bout it, too!”
So Cilla had the advantage over her mistress in good feeling at least, but she was told to hold her tongue and go to her work, and no one was ever the wiser by it. But as we wish to give only an account of the rise of Mr. and Mrs. John Johnson Jones, we must pay less attention to the little incidents of every-day life.
To have slighted Mrs. Hill, “whose husband did a bad business,” was one triumph—to have secured Eda’s non-attendance, another. But to receive Mrs. Macfuss’s acceptance, was one worthy of the gods! This joyful blow was too much for Mrs. Jones’s nervous system! She had the paint rescoured, and Cilla, much discomforted, observed (out of her lady’s hearing, of course,) “that if cos Mrs. Makefuss is a comin’ I has to do all my work over, I wish, (oh, my sakes! if Miss Sarly could hear me!) she’d a kept her ’ceptance to herself. Here’s Miss Sarly almost out her head, and when the ’oman _do_ come, she’ll be crazy as a coot—and coots is bad off for sense.”