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I must confess also that my previous experience as to these compatriots of mine had not prejudiced me in their favour. I regarded them with,–I am ashamed to say so, seeing that they were ladies,–but almost with loathing. When last I had seen them their occupation had reminded me of some obscene feast of harpies, or almost of ghouls. They had brought down to the verge of desperation the man whom of all men I most venerated. On these accounts I was inclined to be taciturn with reference to them;–and then what could I have to say to the Misses Macmanus’s five pupils?

My cousin at first made an effort or two in my favour, but these efforts were fruitless. I soon died away into utter unrecognised insignificance, and the conversation, as I have before said, became feminine. And indeed that horrid Miss Grogram, who was, as it were, the princess of the ghouls, nearly monopolised the whole of it. Mamma Jones–we will call her Jones for the occasion–put in a word now and then, as did also the elder and more energetic Miss Macmanus. The dumpy lady with the broad back ate tea-cake incessantly; the two daughters looked scornful, as though they were above their company with reference to the five pupils; and the five pupils themselves sat in a row with the utmost propriety, each with her hands crossed on her lap before her.

Of what they were talking at last I became utterly oblivious. They had ignored me, going into realms of muslin, questions of maid- servants, female rights, and cheap under-clothing; and I therefore had ignored them. My mind had gone back to Mr. Horne and his garments. While they spoke of their rights, I was thinking of his wrongs; when they mentioned the price of flannel, I thought of that of broadcloth.

But of a sudden my attention was arrested. Miss Macmanus had said something of the black silks of Antwerp, when Miss Grogram replied that she had just returned from that city and had there enjoyed a great success. My cousin had again asked something about the black silks, thinking, no doubt, that Miss Grogram had achieved some bargain, but that lady had soon undeceived her.

“Oh no,” said Miss Grogram, “it was at the castle. We got such beautiful relics of General Chasse! Didn’t we, Mrs. Jones?”

“Indeed we did,” said Mrs. Jones, bringing out from beneath the skirts of her dress and ostensibly displaying a large black bag.

“And I’ve got such a beautiful needle-case,” said the broad-back, displaying her prize. “I’ve been making it up all the morning.” And she handed over the article to Miss Macmanus.

“And only look at this duck of a pen-wiper,” simpered flaxen-hair No. 2. “Only think of wiping one’s pens with relics of General Chasse!” and she handed it over to the other Miss Macmanus.

“And mine’s a pin-cushion,” said No. 1, exhibiting the trophy.

“But that’s nothing to what I’ve got,” said Miss Grogram. “In the first place, there’s a pair of slippers,–a beautiful pair;–they’re not made up yet, of course; and then–“

The two Misses Macmanus and their five pupils were sitting open- eared, open-eyed, and open-mouthed. How all these sombre-looking articles could be relics of General Chasse did not at first appear clear to them.

“What are they, Miss Grogram?” said the elder Miss Macmanus, holding the needle-case in one hand and Mrs. Jones’s bag in the other. Miss Macmanus was a strong-minded female, and I reverenced my cousin when I saw the decided way in which she intended to put down the greedy arrogance of Miss Grogram.

“They are relics.”

“But where do they come from, Miss Grogram?”

“Why, from the castle, to be sure;–from General Chasse’s own rooms.”

“Did anybody sell them to you?”

“No.”

“Or give them to you?”

“Why, no;–at least not exactly give.”

“There they were, and she took ’em,” said the broad-back. Oh, what a look Miss Grogram gave her! “Took them! of course I took them. That is, you took them as much as I did. They were things that we found lying about.”