'
'My dear, I am afraid neither you nor Fly showed your good manners.'
'It was only Ivinghoe, mamma, and I'm sure I don't care what he thinks,
if he could talk of his father in that way. Isn't it what you call
metallical--no--ironical?'
'Indeed, Mysie, I don't wonder it made you very angry, and I can't be
sorry you showed your indignation.'
'But please, mamma, what ought I to have done about the glass?'
'I don't quite know; I think a very wise little girl might have gone to
Cousin Florence's room and consulted her. It would have been better
than making an explosion before so many people. Florence was kind to
you, I hope.'
'Oh yes, mamma, it was almost like being at home in her room; and she
has such a dear little house at the end of the park.'
A good deal more oozed out from Mysie to different auditors at
different times. By her account everything was delightful, and yet
mamma concluded that all had not absolutely fulfilled the paradisiacal
expectation with which her country mouse had viewed Rotherwood from
afar. Lady Rotherwood was very kind, and so was the governess, and
Cousin Florence especially. Cousin Florence's house felt just like a
bit of home. It really was the dearest little house--and fluffy cat
and kittens, and the sweetest love birds. It was perfectly delicious
when they drank tea there, but unluckily she was not allowed to go
thither without the governess or Louise, as it was all across the park,
and a bit of village.
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