"Your mother isn't coming?
She let you come alone?
How jolly of her!" Pulling off her gloves Nanda had come immediately to his assistance; on which, quitting the table and laying hands on Mr.
Longdon's shoulder to push him toward a sofa, he continued to talk, to sound a note of which the humour was the exaggeration of his flurry.
"How jolly of you to be willing to come--most awfully kind! I hope she isn't ill?
Do, Mitchy, lie down.

Down, Mitchy, down!--that's the only way to keep you." He had waited for no account of Mrs.Brookenham's health, and it might have been apparent--still to our sharp spectator--that he found nothing wonderful in her daughter's unsupported arrival.
"I can make tea beautifully," she said from behind her table.

"Mother showed me how this morning." "This morning ?"--and Mitchy, who, before the fire and still erect, had declined to be laid low, greeted the simple remark with uproarious mirth.

"Dear young lady, you're the most delicious family!" "She showed me at breakfast about the little things to do.

She thought I might have to make it here and told me to offer," the girl went on.
"I haven't yet done it this way at home--I usually have my tea upstairs.
They bring it up in a cup, all made and very weak, with a piece of bread-and-butter in the saucer.