England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction; Stepmothers -- Fiction
“All in good time, me dear,” said Mrs. O’Shaughnessy. “And did my Lady
Caroline bid you to bring your music, too? The daughter is one thing,
and the mother is clean another. I hope you’ve got your frock in order
me darlin’; clean and nice and like a lady? You should send it to Mrs.
Jones to iron it out; she’s the plague of my life, but she’s a beautiful
clear starcher--that I will say for her; and if you want a ribbon or
so, me jewel, or anything I have that ye may take a fancy to--there’s my
brooch with O’Shaughnessy’s miniature, sure ne’er a one of them would
find out who it was. You might say it was your grandpapa, me honey, in
his red coat, with his medals; and fine he’d look on your white
frock----”
“Thank you!” said Lottie in alarm; “but I never wear anything, you know,
except poor mamma’s little pearl locket.”
“Sure I know,” said the old woman, with a laugh; “a body can’t wear what
they haven’t got! But you needn’t turn up your little nose at my big
brooch, for when it was made it was the height of the fashion, and now
everything that’s old is the height of the fashion. And so me Lady
Caroline, that’s too grand to say ‘Good morning to ye, ma’am,’ or ‘Good
evening to ye,’ after ye’ve been her neighbour for a dozen years, stops
her grand carriage to bid this bit of a girl to tea, and Miss Lottie
takes it as cool as snowballs, if ye please. Well, well, honey! I don’t
envy ye, not I; but you’re born to luck as sure as the rest of us are
born to trouble, and that all the Abbey can see.”
“I born to luck! I don’t think there is much sign of it,” said Lottie,
though with a tumultuous leap of the heart which contradicted the words.
“And what is there, I should like to know, that all the Abbey can see?”
“If you think I’m going to tell you the nonsense that is flying about,
and put fancies in your little head!” said the old Irishwoman, “go your
ways, and see that your frock’s in order; and I’ll run in and see you
dressed, me pet, and I’ll bring the brooch and the box with me best
ribbons; may be at the last you’ll change your mind.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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