"Mr. Thornton is a learned man," sententiously replied Mrs. Marks; "but I do think he gives so much attention to natural history and entomology. Mr. Marks thought nothing of entomology, he was all for chemistry; that's the science, Mrs. Digby!" "Didn't it blow him up?" "Blow him up! Was Mr. Marks a gunpowder-mill, Mrs. Digby? He perished in making a scientific experiment; you will, I trust, soon learn the difference. A man of Mr. Thornton's immense mind cannot but sicken of entomology, and return to chemistry. You will not see much, but you will hear reports--" "Gracious!" interrupted Mrs. Digby, with an alarmed air, "I wish I were out of the place." "Then help your handsome young lady to get a husband," sneered Mrs. Marks from the depths of her arm-chair. "If Miss Grainger had my spirit," loftily replied Mrs. Digby, "she would now be a countess of the realm, Mrs. Marks; and if she had been guided by me, she would at least be the wife of the handsomest gentleman I ever saw." "Edward Thornton! the heir-at-law! Pooh! Mrs. Digby! he has not a penny, and Mr. Thornton won't die just yet." "He is very handsome," spiritedly returned Mrs. Digby; "but, as I said, if Miss Grainger will put herself in the hands of Mrs. Brand, why she must bear with the consequences, Mrs. Marks." So saying, Mrs. Digby for the first time turned towards me. She was a thin, fair, faded woman, attired in a light blue dress, which, like its wearer, was rather _pass?e_. She sat by the table, with the tip of her elbow resting on the edge; drooping in a graceful willow-like attitude, she raised a tortoise-shell eye-glass to her eyes, examined me through it, then dropping it with lady-like grace, sighed forth-- "How do you feel, darling?" I was proud, more proud than shy; I resented being left to the subordinates of my grandfather's household, and did not choose to answer. Mrs. Marks spared me the trouble. "You might as well talk to the cat, Mrs. Digby. Children," she added, giving me an impressive look of her dull eyes, "are, up to a certain age, little animal creatures: they have speech, sensation, but neither thought nor feeling. Mr. Marks and I would never have anything to do with them." "Oh! Mrs. Marks! a baby?" "Have you ever had one?" Mrs. Digby reddened, and asked for an explanation. Mrs. Marks asked to know if there had not been a Mr. Digby? No. But there might have been a Mr. Wilkinson, two Messrs. Jones--Mr. Thompson was coming on, and Mr. John Smith was looming in the distance, when Mrs. Marks interrupted the series by pouring out the tea. I sat between the two ladies, but I ate nothing. "That child won't live," observed Mrs. Marks at the close of her own hearty meal; "she is a puny thing for her age; besides it is not natural in such an essentially physical creature as a child not to eat; why don't you eat, Anna?" I looked at her and spoke for the first time: "My name is not Anna."