That was your--" The rustle of skirts on the stairs without arrested Mrs.March in the well-merited punishment which she never failed to inflict upon her husband when the question of the gimcrackery--they always called it that--came up.

She rose at the entrance of a bright-looking, pretty-looking, mature, youngish lady, in black silk of a neutral implication, who put out her hand to her, and said, with a very cheery, very ladylike accent, "Mrs.March ?" and then added to both of them, while she shook hands with March, and before they could get the name out of their months: "No, not Miss Dryfoos! Neither of them; nor Mrs.
Dryfoos.

Mrs.Mandel.The ladies will be down in a moment.

Won't you throw off your sacque, Mrs.March?
I'm afraid it's rather warm here, coming from the outside." "I will throw it back, if you'll allow me," said Mrs.March, with a sort of provisionality, as if, pending some uncertainty as to Mrs.Mandel's quality and authority, she did not feel herself justified in going further.
But if she did not know about Mrs.Mandel, Mrs.Mandel seemed to know about her.

"Oh, well, do!" she said, with a sort of recognition of the propriety of her caution.