Chapter 10

ANNOUNCING MR. BAROLD.

Lady Theobald's invited guests sat in the faded blue drawing-room,
waiting. Everybody had been unusually prompt, perhaps because
everybody wished to be on the ground in time to see Miss Octavia
Bassett make her entrance.

"I should think it would be rather a trial, even to such a girl as she is
said to be," remarked one matron.

"It is but natural that she should feel that Lady Theobald will regard
her rather critically, and that she should know that American manners
will hardly be the thing for a genteel and conservative English country
town."

"We saw her a few days ago," said Lucia, who chanced to hear this
speech, "and she is very pretty. I think I never saw any one so very
pretty before."

"But in quite a theatrical way, I think, my dear," the matron replied, in
a tone of gentle correction.

"I have seen so very few theatrical people," Lucia answered sweetly,
"that I scarcely know what the theatrical way is, dear Mrs. Burnham. Her
dress was very beautiful, and not like what we wear in Slowbridge; but
she seemed to me to be very bright and pretty, in a way quite new to me,
and so just a little odd."

"I have heard that her dress is most extravagant and wasteful," put in
Miss Pilcher, whose educational position entitled her to the
condescending respect of her patronesses. "She has lace on her morning
gowns, which"--

"Miss Bassett and Miss Octavia Bassett," announced Dobson, throwing
open the door.

Lady Theobald rose from her seat. A slight rustle made itself heard
through the company, as the ladies all turned toward the entrance; and,
after they had so turned, there were evidences of a positive thrill.
Before the eyes of all, Belinda Bassett advanced with rich ruffles of
Mechlin at her neck and wrists, with a delicate and distinctly novel cap
upon her head, her niece following her with an unabashed face, twenty
pounds' worth of lace on her dress, and unmistakable diamonds in her
little ears.

"There is not a _shadow_ of timidity about her," cried Mrs. Burnham under
her breath. "This is actual boldness."

But this was a very severe term to use, notwithstanding that it was born
of righteous indignation. It was not boldness at all: it was only the
serenity of a young person who was quite unconscious that there was any
thing to fear in the rather unimposing party before her. Octavia was
accustomed to entering rooms full of strangers. She had spent several
years of her life in hotels, where she had been stared out of countenance
by a few score new people every day. She was even used to being, in some