“I am perfectly proportioned,” said the medical lady confidentially to Mrs. Whitley.

Mrs. Whitley would not have thought so herself, but she made an assenting murmur, out of politeness.

They were seated at breakfast two or three mornings later, and the medical lady’s statement was interrupted by the entrance of Miss Semaphore, who glided quietly to her place, and took up her correspondence with some appearance of anxiety.

“Perfectly proportioned,” went on the medical lady in a lower key; “my dressmaker says she has no difficulty therefore in fitting me, and my gowns always sit well. I don’t say this out of vanity. It is a fact. I fear, however, it would be no use giving her address to other people, for the result might not be as satisfactory.”

36Mrs. Whitley looked insulted, but she was a timid woman, and not ready of speech. She thought the medical lady’s dress clumsy, and her figure shapeless, but had indiscreetly asked who made it—the dress, not the figure—with a view to employing the woman on some plain sewing. The medical lady’s answer to her question had offended her very much, but she could not think of anything cutting to say in reply.

36

Without noticing her expression, or feeling any awkwardness, the medical lady continued,

“You know my velvet mantle? I have been told Miss Fastleigh says she does not like it. Now that is pure jealousy. It is an extremely handsome mantle, far handsomer than anything she could afford. But of course it could only be worn by a fine, tall woman. It is astonishing that so many people are jealous of me.”

Mrs. Whitley wondered vaguely what grounds for jealousy the medical lady gave. She certainly was not popular in the house, but that was scarcely because anyone was jealous of her. Belief in her own beauty, however, and in the envy she imagined it excited, kept her happy; so sharp speeches or 37covert hints alike failed to alter her. Mrs. Whitley she had chosen as a confidante, under the belief that she was a quiet little person who admired her. She would have been very much astonished to hear Mrs. Whitley’s candid opinion.

37

“And how are you this morning, Mrs. Whitley?” asked Mrs. Dumaresq blandly. She was the next arrival.

“My cold is still bad, thank you,” said Mrs. Whitley.

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