Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 53: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

44 THE YOUNG WIDOW. in the most chic of peignoirs, having her hair dressed, when the butler rapped discreetly at the door. The maid opened it and announced to her mistress that there was some one waiting in the reception-room_ to see her. ‘‘What, at this hour?’’ exclaimed Mrs. French, with an- noyance. ‘‘Whois it, Harris? A lady?’’ The man said it was. ‘*A lady,’’ persisted Mrs. French, continuing to manicure her finger-nails, ‘‘or a canvasser? You ought to know the difference by this time, and what lady would make a call at breakfast-time?”’ Harris insisted respectfully that it was a lady neverthe- less. ‘‘But her name or card,’’ persisted Mrs. French, petu- lantly. ‘“She would not give me either,’’ replied Harris, ‘‘but sae said she wanted to see you very particular. ”’ “Why, how strange—or how brazen, I don’t know which,’’ returned his mistress. ‘‘But I'll bet five guineas her business is of no importance whatever to me, and if so, Harris, I shall be very angry at you for disturbing me. Go tell her I’ll be there directly, and mind you watch her; she may nip some of my bric-a-brac while you’re gone.”’ The man disappeared with a shrug of the shoulders and a gesture which spoke more plainly than words. Mrs. French, when her hair was finished, with the maid’s assistance, got into a loose house-gown, bordered with marabout, added adrop or two of perfume to her lace hand- kerchief, and sailed into the drawing-room. Her caller was a lady, she decided mentally, as soon as her eyes rested upon the tall, commanding figure awaiting her, and there Gomichbookssco S|