"It is Norah, or Veronica, or Geraldine, or Patricia; yes, it is Patricia,--I know it as well as if I had been at the christening .-- Dawson, take the tea-things, please; and do you know the name of the gentleman who has bought the house on the opposite side ?" "It is Lord Brighton, miss." (You would never believe it, but we find the name is spelled Brighthelmston.) "He hasn't bought the 'ouse; he has taken it for a week, and is giving a ball there on the Tuesday evening.
He has four daughters, miss, and two h'orphan nieces that generally spends the season with 'im.

It's the youngest daughter he is bringing out, that lively one you saw cutting about just now.

They 'ave no ballroom, I expect, in their town 'ouse, which accounts for their renting one for this occasion.

They stopped a month in this 'otel last year, so I have the honour of m'luds acquaintance." "Lady Brighthelmston is not living, I should judge," remarked Salemina, in the tone of one who thinks it hardly worth while to ask.
"Oh, yes, miss, she's alive and 'earty; but the daughters manages everythink, and what they down't manage the h'orphan nieces does.

The 'ouse is run for the young ladies, but m'ludanlady seems to enjoy it." Dovermarle Street was so interesting during the next few days that we could scarcely bear to leave it, lest something exciting should happen in our absence.
"A ball is so confining!" said Francesca, who had come back from the corner of Piccadilly to watch the unloading of a huge van, and found that it had no intention of stopping at Number Nine on the opposite side.
First came a small army of charwomen, who scrubbed the house from top to bottom.