This was very agreeable to Bessie, but Miss Jocund looked like an angry
sphinx, and as the defeated nurse appeared she said with suppressed
excitement, "Sally, how often must I warn you to keep the boy out of the
show-room? Carry him away." The flaxen cherub was born off kicking and
howling; Bessie looked as if she were being punished herself, Mrs.
Stokes stood confounded, Mrs. Betts turned red. Only Miss Burleigh
seemed unaffected, and inquired simply whose that little boy was.
"_Mine_, ma'am," replied the milliner with an emphasis that forbade
further question. But Miss Burleigh's reflective powers were awakened.
Mrs. Betts, that woman of resources and experience, standing with the
blue silk slip half dropt on the Scotch carpet at her feet, reverted to
the interrupted business of the hour as if there had been no break. "And
if, when it comes to dressing this evening at Lady Angleby's, there's
not a thing that fits?" she bitterly suggested.
"I will answer for it that everything fits," said Miss Jocund,
recovering herself with more effort. "I have worked on true principles.
But"--with a persuasive inclination towards Bessie--"if Miss Fairfax
will condescend to inspect my productions, she will gratify me and
herself also."
As she spoke Miss Jocund threw open the door of an adjoining room, where
the said productions were elaborately laid out, and Mrs. Stokes ran in
to have the first view.
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