The Maidens Lodge | Page 9

such as she that the Queen doth touch," said Mrs Jane.
"King William never did."
"Is that no mistake?" gently suggested Lady Betty.
"Never dared," came rather grimly from Madam.
"Well, maybe," said Mrs Jane. "But I protest I cannot see why Queen
Mary should not have done it, as well as her sister."
"I own I cannot but very much doubt," returned Madam, severely, "that
any good consequence should follow."
By which it will be perceived that Madam was an uncompromising
Jacobite. Mrs Jane had no particular convictions, but she liked to talk
Whig, because all around were Tories. Lady Betty was a Hanoverian
Tory--that is, what would be termed an extreme Tory in the present day,
but attached to the Protestant Succession. Mrs Clarissa was whatever
she found it the fashion to be. As to Mrs Dorothy, she held private

opinions, but she never allowed them to appear, well knowing that they
would be far from acceptable to Madam. And since Mrs Dorothy was
sometimes constrained unwillingly to differ from Madam on points
which she deemed essential, she was careful not to vex her on subjects
which she considered indifferent.
Rhoda was rather disappointed to find that Phoebe showed no
astonished admiration of Tewkesbury Abbey. She forgot that the
Abbey Church at Bath, and Saint Mary Redcliffe at Bristol, had been
familiar to Phoebe from her infancy. The porch was lined with beggars,
who showered blessings upon Madam, in grateful anticipation of
shillings to come. But Madam passed grandly on, and paid no attention
to them.
The church and the service were about equally chilly. Being a fast-day,
the organ was silent; but all the responding was left to the choir, the
congregation seemingly supposing it as little their concern as Cupid
thought it his--who curled himself up comfortably, and went to sleep.
The gentlemen appeared to be amusing themselves by staring at the
ladies; the ladies either returned the compliment slily behind their fans,
or exchanged courtesies with each other. There was a long, long
bidding prayer, and a sermon which might have been fitly prefaced by
the announcement, "Let us talk to the praise and glory of Charles the
First!" It was over at last. The gentlemen put down their eye-glasses,
the ladies yawned and furled their fans; there was a great deal of
bowing, and courtesying, and complimenting--Mr William informing
Mrs Betty that the sun had come out solely to do her honour, and Mrs
Betty retorting with a delicate blow from her fan, and, "What a mad
fellow are you!" At last these also were over; and the ladies from
Cressingham remounted the family coach, nearly in the same order as
they came--the variation being that Phoebe found herself seated
opposite Mrs Clarissa Vane.
"Might I pat him?" said Phoebe, diffidently.
"If you want to be bit, do!" snapped Mrs Jane.
"Oh deah, yes!" languishingly responded Mrs Clarissa. "He neveh bites,

does 'e, the pwetty deah!"
"Heyday! Doesn't 'e, the pwetty deah!" observed Mrs Jane, in such
exact imitation of her friend's affected tones as sorely to try Phoebe's
gravity.
Lady Betty laughed openly, but added, "Mind what you are about,
child."
"Poor doggie!" softly said Phoebe.
Cupid's response was the slightest oscillation of the extreme point of
his tail. But when Phoebe attempted to stroke him, to the surprise of all
parties, instead of snapping at her, as he was expected to do, Cupid
only wagged rather more decidedly; and when Phoebe proceeded to rub
his head and ears, he actually gave her, not a bite of resentment, but a
lick of friendliness.
"Deah! the sweet little deah! 'E's vewy good!" said his mistress.
The gentle reader is requested not to suppose that the elision of Mrs
Clarissa's poor letter H, as well as R, proceeded either from ignorance
or vulgarity--except so far as vulgarity lies in blindly following fashion.
Mrs Clarissa's only mistake was that, like most country ladies, she was
rather behind the age. The dropping of H and other letters had been
fashionable in the metropolis some eight years before.
"Clarissa, what a goose are you!" said Mrs Jane.
"Come, Jenny, don't you bite!" put in Lady Betty. "Cupid has set you a
better example than so."
"I'll not bite Clarissa, I thank you," was Mrs Jane's rather spiteful
answer. "It would want more than one fast-day to bring me to that.
Couldn't fancy the paint. And don't think I could digest the patches."
Lady Betty appeared to enjoy Mrs Jane's very uncivil speeches; while
Cupid's mistress remained untouched by them, being one of those

persons who affect not to hear anything to which they do not choose to
respond.
"Well, Rhoda, child," said Lady Betty, as the coach neared home, "'tis
no good, I guess, to bid you drink tea on a