dignity, if not with warmth.
Mr. Francis Barold was silent for a second, and a slightly reflective expression flitted across his face.
"Thanks, yes," he said at last. "Certainly. It is easy to come down, and I should like to see more of Slowbridge."
When the train had puffed in and out of the station, and Dobson was driving down High Street again, her ladyship's feelings rather got the better of her.
"If Belinda Bassett is a wise woman," she remarked, "she will take my advice, and get rid of this young lady as soon as possible. It appears to me," she continued, with exalted piety, "that every well-trained English girl has reason to thank her Maker that she was born in a civilized land."
"Perhaps," suggested Lucia softly, "Miss Octavia Bassett has had no one to train her at all; and it may be that—that she even feels it deeply."
The feathers in her ladyship's bonnet trembled.
"She does not feel it at all!" she announced. "She is an impertinent—minx!"
CHAPTER VIII. — SHARES LOOKING UP.
There were others who echoed her ladyship's words afterward, though they echoed them privately, and with more caution than my lady felt necessary. It is certain that Miss Octavia Bassett did not improve as time progressed, and she had enlarged opportunities for studying the noble example set before her by Slowbridge.
On his arrival in New York, Martin Bassett telegraphed to his daughter and sister, per Atlantic cable, informing them that he might be detained a couple of months, and bidding them to be of good cheer. The arrival of the message in its official envelope so alarmed Miss
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