hour.
“Sophy!” gasped her ladyship. “Charles’s grays? You could never hold them!”
“To own the truth,” admitted Sophy, “I had the devil’s own work to do so! Oh, I beg your pardon! I did not mean to say that, dearest Aunt Lizzie! Don’t scold! It comes of living with Sir Horace. I know I say the most shocking things, but I do try to mind my wretched tongue! No, and do not give Charles’s pets another thought! He will come about presently. I daresay if he had not engaged himself to marry that tedious girl he would not be so stuffy!”
“Oh, Sophy!” said Lady Ombersley involuntarily. “I own I cannot like Miss Wraxton, try as I will!”
“Like her! I should think not indeed!” exclaimed Sophy.
“Yes, but one should,” said Lady Ombersley unhappily. “She is so very good, and I am sure she wishes to be a most dutiful daughter to me, and it is so ill natured of me not to wish for a dutiful daughter! But when I think that in quite a short time now I shall have her living in the house—but I should not be talking in this style! It is most improper, and you must forget it, if you please, Sophy!”
Sophy paid no heed to this, but echoed, “Living in the house? You are not serious, ma’am?”
Lady Ombersley nodded. “There is nothing at all out of the way in such an arrangement, you know, my love. They will have their own apartments, of course, but—” She broke off and sighed.
Sophy looked at her fixedly for a few moments, but, rather to her surprise, said nothing. Lady Ombersley tried to put these melancholy reflections out of her mind and began to talk about the party she meant to give. In these plans her niece entered with enthusiasm, and an efficiency that swept Lady Ombersley quite off her feet. By what stages she arrived at agreement with Sophy on all points she was never afterward able to explain, either to Charles or to herself, but at the end of an interview which left her feeling bemused but convinced that no one could boast of having a sweeter-natured or more thoughtful niece than Sophy, she had certainly consented not only to allow Sophy and Cecilia to undertake all the necessary arrangements, but also to permit Sir Horace (through his daughter) to defray the cost of the entertainment.
“And now,” Sophy said buoyantly to Cecilia, “you shall tell me where we must order the cards of invitation and where you in general go for refreshments. I don’t think we should leave that to my aunt’s cook, for he would be busy for so many days he would have very little time for anything else, and that would make everyone uncomfortable, which I don’t at all wish.”
Cecilia regarded her in round-eyed astonishment. “But Sophy, Mama said it should only be quite a small party!”
“No, Cecy, it was your brother who said that,” replied Sophy. “It is going to be a very large party.”
Selina, who was present at this conference, asked shrewdly: “Does Mama know that?”
Sophy laughed. “Not yet!” she admitted. “Do you think she does not care for large parties?”
“Oh, no! Why, there were more than four hundred people invited to the ball she gave for Maria, were there not, Cecilia? Mama enjoyed it excessively, because it was such a capital success, and everyone complimented her on it. Cousin Mathilda told me so.”
“Yes, but the cost of it!” Cecilia said. “She will not dare! Charles would be so angry!”
“Don’t give him a thought!” recommended Sophy. “It is Sir Horace who will bear the cost, not Charles. Make a list of all your acquaintances, Cecy, and I will make one of those of my friends who are in England, and then we will go out to order the cards. I imagine we shall not need more than five hundred.”
“Sophy,” said Cecilia, in a faint voice, “are we going to send out five hundred invitations without even asking Mama?”
Imps of mischief danced in her cousin’s eyes. “Of course we are, dear goose! For once we have despatched them, even your
“Sophy!” gasped her ladyship. “Charles’s grays? You could never hold them!”
“To own the truth,” admitted Sophy, “I had the devil’s own work to do so! Oh, I beg your pardon! I did not mean to say that, dearest Aunt Lizzie! Don’t scold! It comes of living with Sir Horace. I know I say the most shocking things, but I do try to mind my wretched tongue! No, and do not give Charles’s pets another thought! He will come about presently. I daresay if he had not engaged himself to marry that tedious girl he would not be so stuffy!”
“Oh, Sophy!” said Lady Ombersley involuntarily. “I own I cannot like Miss Wraxton, try as I will!”
“Like her! I should think not indeed!” exclaimed Sophy.
“Yes, but one should,” said Lady Ombersley unhappily. “She is so very good, and I am sure she wishes to be a most dutiful daughter to me, and it is so ill natured of me not to wish for a dutiful daughter! But when I think that in quite a short time now I shall have her living in the house—but I should not be talking in this style! It is most improper, and you must forget it, if you please, Sophy!”
Sophy paid no heed to this, but echoed, “Living in the house? You are not serious, ma’am?”
Lady Ombersley nodded. “There is nothing at all out of the way in such an arrangement, you know, my love. They will have their own apartments, of course, but—” She broke off and sighed.
Sophy looked at her fixedly for a few moments, but, rather to her surprise, said nothing. Lady Ombersley tried to put these melancholy reflections out of her mind and began to talk about the party she meant to give. In these plans her niece entered with enthusiasm, and an efficiency that swept Lady Ombersley quite off her feet. By what stages she arrived at agreement with Sophy on all points she was never afterward able to explain, either to Charles or to herself, but at the end of an interview which left her feeling bemused but convinced that no one could boast of having a sweeter-natured or more thoughtful niece than Sophy, she had certainly consented not only to allow Sophy and Cecilia to undertake all the necessary arrangements, but also to permit Sir Horace (through his daughter) to defray the cost of the entertainment.
“And now,” Sophy said buoyantly to Cecilia, “you shall tell me where we must order the cards of invitation and where you in general go for refreshments. I don’t think we should leave that to my aunt’s cook, for he would be busy for so many days he would have very little time for anything else, and that would make everyone uncomfortable, which I don’t at all wish.”
Cecilia regarded her in round-eyed astonishment. “But Sophy, Mama said it should only be quite a small party!”
“No, Cecy, it was your brother who said that,” replied Sophy. “It is going to be a very large party.”
Selina, who was present at this conference, asked shrewdly: “Does Mama know that?”
Sophy laughed. “Not yet!” she admitted. “Do you think she does not care for large parties?”
“Oh, no! Why, there were more than four hundred people invited to the ball she gave for Maria, were there not, Cecilia? Mama enjoyed it excessively, because it was such a capital success, and everyone complimented her on it. Cousin Mathilda told me so.”
“Yes, but the cost of it!” Cecilia said. “She will not dare! Charles would be so angry!”
“Don’t give him a thought!” recommended Sophy. “It is Sir Horace who will bear the cost, not Charles. Make a list of all your acquaintances, Cecy, and I will make one of those of my friends who are in England, and then we will go out to order the cards. I imagine we shall not need more than five hundred.”
“Sophy,” said Cecilia, in a faint voice, “are we going to send out five hundred invitations without even asking Mama?”
Imps of mischief danced in her cousin’s eyes. “Of course we are, dear goose! For once we have despatched them, even your
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