They're devoted to her. And the young
people--the very modern ones--who think nice manners 'early Victorian,'
and like her rudeness for the sake of her cleverness. But the
rest!--What do you think she did at one of these parties last year?"
Doris could not help wishing to know.
"She took a fancy to ask a girl near here--the daughter of a clergyman,
a great friend of Lord Dunstable's, to come over for the Sunday. Lord
Dunstable had talked of the girl, and Rachel's always on the look-out
for cleverness; she hunts it like a hound! She met the young woman too
somewhere, and got the impression--I can't say how--that she would 'go.'
So on the Saturday morning she went over in her pony-carriage--broke in
on the little Rectory like a hurricane--of course you know the people
about here regard her as something semi-divine!--and told the girl she
had come to take her back to Crosby Ledgers for the Sunday. So the poor
child packed up, all in a flutter, and they set off together in the
pony-carriage--six miles. And by the time they had gone four Rachel had
discovered she had made a mistake--that the girl wasn't clever, and
would add nothing to the party.
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