The Honorable Miss | Page 2

and it did. Shut that window, will you, Bee?--the wind is very sharp for
the time of year. You don't mind my calling you Bee now and

then--even if it doesn't seem quite to fit?" continued Mrs.
Meadowsweet.
"No, mother, of course not. Call me anything in the world you fancy.
What's in a name?"
"Don't say that, Trixie, there's a great deal in a name."
"Well, I get confused with mine now and then. Mother, I just came in
to kiss you and run away again. Alice Bell and I are going to the lecture
at the Town Hall. It begins at five, and it's half-past four now.
Good-bye, I shall be home to supper."
"One moment, Bee, I am really pleased that your fine friend's mother
has chosen to call at last."
Beatrice frowned.
"Catherine is not my fine friend," she said.
"Well, your _friend_, then, dearie. I am glad your friend's mother has
called."
"I am not--that is, I am absolutely indifferent. Now, I really must run
away. Good-bye until you see me again."
She tripped out of the room as lightly and carelessly as she had entered
it, and Mrs. Meadowsweet sat on by the window which looked into the
garden.
Mrs. Meadowsweet had the smoothest and most tranquil of faces. She
had taken as her favorite motto in life, that somehow, if you only
allowed them, things did fit all round. Each event in her own career, to
use her special phraseology "fitted." As her husband had to die, he
passed away from this life at the most fitting moment. As Providence
had blessed her with only one child, a daughter was surely the most
fitting companion for a widowed mother. The house Mrs.
Meadowsweet lived in fitted her requirements to perfection. In short,
she was fat and comfortable, both in mind and body; she never fretted,
she never worried; she was not rasping and disagreeable; she was not
fault-finding. If her nature lacked depth, it certainly did not lack
affection, generosity, and a true spirit of kindliness. If she were a little
too well pleased with herself, she was also well pleased with her
neighbors. She was not especially appreciated, for she was considered
prosy and commonplace. Prosy she undoubtedly was, but not
commonplace, for invariable contentment and unbounded good-nature
are more and more difficult to find in this censorious world.

Mrs. Meadowsweet now smiled gently to herself.
"However Beatrice may take it, I am glad Mrs. Bertram called," she
murmured. "_He'd_ have liked it, poor man! he never put himself out,
and he never interfered with me, no, never, poor dear. But he liked
people to show due respect--it's a respect to Beatrice for Mrs. Bertram
to call. It shows that she appreciates Beatrice as her daughter's friend.
Mrs. Bertram, notwithstanding her pride, is likely to be very much
respected in Northbury, and no wonder. She's a little above most of us,
but we like her all the better for that. We are going to be proud of her.
It's nice to have some one to be proud of. And she has no airs when you
come to know her, no, she hasn't airs; she's as pleasant as possible, and
seems interested too, that is, as interested as people like us can expect
from people like her. She didn't even condescend to Beatrice. I wonder
how my little girl would have taken it, if she had condescended to her.
Yes, Jane, do you want me?"
An elderly servant opened the drawing-room door.
"If you please, ma'am, Mrs. Morris has called, and she wants to know if
it would disturb you very much to see her?"
"Disturb me? She knows it won't disturb me. Show her in at once. And
Jane, you can get tea ready half-an-hour earlier than usual. I daresay, as
Mrs. Morris has called she'd like a cup. How do you do, Mrs. Morris?
I'm right glad to see you, right glad. Sit here, in this chair--or perhaps
you'd rather sit in this one; this isn't too near the window. And you'll
like a screen, I know;--not that there's any draught--for these windows
fit as tight as tight when shut."
Mrs. Morris was a thin, tall woman. She always spoke in a whisper, for
she was possessed of the belief that she had lost her voice in bronchitis.
She had not, for when she scolded any one she found it again. She was
not scolding now, however, and her tones were very low and
smothered.
"I saw her coming in, my dear; I was standing at the back of the wire
blind, and I saw her going up your steps, so I thought I'd come across
quickly and hear the news. You'll tell me the news as soon as possible,
won't you? Mrs.