The Honorable Miss | Page 8

the bazaar, my dear Catherine," answered Mrs. Bertram with alacrity. "You made an acquaintance? The acquaintance of a girl? Who?"
"Her name is Beatrice Meadowsweet. She is a dear, delightful, fresh girl, and exactly my own age."
Catherine's dark face was all aglow. Her handsome brown eyes shone with interest and pleasure.
"Catherine, how often, how very often have I told you that expressions of rapture such as you have just given way to are underbred."
"Why are they underbred, mother?" Catherine's tone was aggressive, and Mabel again kicked her sister's foot.
The kick was returned with vigor, and Catherine said in an earnest though deliberate voice:
"Why are expressions of rapture underbred? Can enthusiasm, that fire of the gods, be vulgar?"
"Kate, you are cavilling. Expressions of rapture generally show a lack of breeding because as a rule they are exaggerated, therefore untrue. In this case they are manifestly untrue, for how is it possible for you to tell that the girl you have just been speaking to is dear, delightful, and fresh?"
"Her face is fresh, her manners are fresh, her expression is delightful. There is no use, mother, you can't crush me. I am in love with Beatrice Meadowsweet."
Mrs. Bertram's brow became clouded. It was one of the bitter defeats which she had ever and anon to acknowledge to herself that, in the midst of her otherwise victorious career, she could never get the better of her eldest daughter Catherine.
"Who introduced you to this girl?" she asked, after a pause.
"The Rector. He saw me standing by one of the stalls, looking what I felt--awfully bored. He came up in his kind way and took my hand, and said: 'My dear, you don't know any one, I am afraid. You would like to make some acquaintances, would you not?' I replied: 'I am most anxious to know some of the nice people all around me.'"
"My dear Catherine! The nice people! And when you knew my express wishes!"
"Yes, mother, but they weren't mine. And I had to be truthful, at any cost. Beatrice was standing not far off, and when I said this my eye met hers, and we both smiled. Then the rector introduced me to her, and we mutually voted the bazaar close and hot, and went out to watch the tennis players in the garden. We had a jolly time. I have not laughed so much since I came to this slow, poky corner of the world."
"And what were you doing, Mabel?" questioned her mother. "Did you, too, pick up an undesirable acquaintance and march away into the gardens with her? Was your new friend also fresh, delightful and dear?"
"I wish she had been, mother," answered Mabel, her tone still very petulant. "But I hadn't Kate's luck. I was introduced to no one, although lots of people stared at me, and whispered about me as I passed."
"And you saw this paragon of Catherine's?"
"Yes, I saw her."
"What did you think of her, May? I like to get your opinion, my love. You have a good deal of penetration. Tell me frankly what you thought of this low-born miss, whom Catherine degraded herself by talking to."
Mabel looked at her sister. Catherine's eyes flashed. Mabel replied demurely:
"I thought Miss Meadowsweet quiet-looking and graceful."
Catherine took Mabel's hand unnoticed by their mother and squeezed it, and Mrs. Bertram, who was not wholly devoid of tact, thought it wisest to let the conversation drop.
The next day the Rector called, and Mrs. Bertram asked him, in an incidental way what kind of people the Meadowsweets were.
"Excellent people," he replied, rubbing his hands softly together. "Excellent, worthy, honorable. I have few parishioners whom I think more highly of than Beatrice and her mother."
Mrs. Bertram's brow began to clear.
"A mother and daughter," she remarked. "Only a mother and a daughter, Mr. Ingram?"
"Only a mother and a daughter, my dear madam. Poor Meadowsweet left us six years ago. He was one of my churchwardens, a capital fellow, so thoroughgoing and reliable. A sound churchman, too. In short, everything that one could desire. He died rather suddenly, and I was afraid Mrs. Meadowsweet would leave Northbury, but Bee did not wish it. Bee has a will of her own, and I fancy she's attached to us all."
"I am very glad that you can give us such a pleasant account of these parishioners of yours, dear Mr. Ingram," responded Mrs. Bertram. "The fact is, I am in a difficult position here. No, the girls won't overhear us; they are busy at their embroidery in that distant corner. Well, perhaps, to make sure. Kate," Mrs. Bertram raised her voice, "I know the Rector is going to give us the pleasure of his company to tea. Mr. Ingram, I shall not allow you to say no. Kate, will you and Mabel go into the garden, and bring in