Americans -- England -- Fiction; Girls -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
The drawing-room seemed, as I went in, to be full of Maffertons. There
were more Maffertons than china plates on the wall, than patterns on the
carpet. And yet there were only the four young ladies and their mother
and father. The effect was produced, I think, by the great similarity
between the Misses Mafferton. Not in actual face or figure; there were
quite perceptible differences there. The likeness lay in an indefinable
shade of manner and behaviour, in the subdued and unobtrusive way in
which they all got up and looked at me and at their mamma, waiting until
it should be entirely proper for them to come forward. They were dressed
a good deal alike, in low tones of silk, high necked, rather wrinkling
at the shoulders, and finished with lace frills at the throat and
wrists, and they all wore their hair parted in the middle, brushed
smoothly back over their ears, and braided neatly across and across
behind. I have never been sure about their ages--they might have been
anything from twenty-five to forty; but Isabella, whom they spoke of as
the youngest, seemed to me to be the most serious and elderly of all.
Mrs. Mafferton was a very stout old lady, with what is called a fine
face. She wore a good many old-fashioned rings, and a wide lace collar
over her expansive black silk, and as she came heavily forward to meet
me she held out both her hands, and beamed upon me--not an impulsive
beam, however, rather a beam with an element of caution in it.
'You are very welcome, Miss Wick. Indeed, we have been looking forward
to this. I think you ought to let me give you a kiss!'
Of course I did let Mrs. Mafferton give me a kiss--it was impossible to
refuse. But I thought myself singularly favoured; it did not seem at all
in accordance with the character of the family to fall upon the neck
of a stranger and embrace her by way of welcoming her to dinner. I was
still further of that opinion when each of the Misses Mafferton followed
the example of their mamma, and saluted me tenderly on the same cheek.
But I immediately put it down to be an idiosyncrasy. 'We are so glad to
see you at last,' said the eldest. 'Yes, indeed!' said the second. 'We
began to think we never should,' said the third. 'We really did!' said
the fourth.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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