“One would think that you must have had fifty, at least, before you were five–and–twenty! How on earth do you understand him so? I only know half what he means, though I try for hours and hours.” “Simply by sympathizing with him. I feel all his ideas come home to me, and I put them into shape.” “You are the loveliest creature I ever saw.” And, indeed, Georgie did look very well, for it was not all mere humbug now, though perhaps it was at first. “Oh, no wonder baby loves you. Kicklewick, isnʼt it wonderful?” “Indeed, then, and it would be, maʼam,” replied Mrs. Kicklewick, rapturously—for now she had four half–crowns in her pocket—“only for it beinʼ nature, maʼam. Nature it is as does it, as must be. Nothing else no good again it. And how I should like to beʼlong of you, maʼam, when your next time come, please God. Would you mind to accept of my card, maʼam, unpretenshome but in good families,—Sarah Kicklewick, late to Lord Eldergun, and have hopes to be again, maʼam, if any confidence in head–footman. ‘Mrs. Kicklewick,’ he says, and me upon the bridge, maʼam, with the wind a blowinʼ——” “To be sure,” said Georgie, “and the water flowing; how clearly you describe it!” But we must cut her short, even as she cut nurse Kicklewick. Enough that she won such influence over the kind but not too clever Rosa, that Rufus Huttonʼs plans and acts, so far as they were known to his wife, were known also to his wifeʼs best friend. But one thing there was which Mrs. Corklemore could not at all understand,—why should he be going to London so, and wanting to go again, in spite of domestic emergencies? She very soon satisfied herself that Rosa was really in the dark upon this point, and very indignant at being so. This indignation must be fostered and pointed to a practical end. Mrs. Kettledrum, of course, had been kept in the background all this time, and scarcely allowed to dandle the baby, for fear of impairing her sisterʼs triumph. “How wonderfully kind and thoughtful of you!” said Rosa, as Georgie came in again. “Have you really brought me a glass of wine? And no one else in the house to suppose that I ought to have any nourishment! How can I thank you, Mrs. Corklemore?” “No more ‘Mrs. Corklemore,’ if you please. I have begun to call you ‘Rosaʼ—it is such a pretty name—and you must call me ‘Georgie,’ darling. Every one does who loves me.” “Then I am sure all the world must. Dearest Georgie, how did you get it? I am sure I would not touch it, only for your sake.” “Oh, I did such a shameful thing. Such a liberty I never took before! I actually sent the servant to say, with Mrs. Corklemoreʼs compliments, that she felt the effect of the fright this morning, and would like another glass of port, but would not touch it if any of the gentlemen left the table even for a moment. And they actually sent me a dock–glass, in pleasantry, I suppose: but I am very glad they did.” “I will take some, if you take half, dear.”