"Dis my little missus's room?" Mr. Dinsmore heard Aunt Chloe exclaim in a tone of astonishment and contempt, as the little party, guided by Sally, the housemaid, reached the door of the room selected by Mrs. Dinsmore.
He hurried forward. "What, this pigeon-hole?" he exclaimed, turning wrathfully to the girl. "Who bade you bring the young lady, Mr. Horace's daughter, here?"
"Missus tole de housekeeper fix dis room fo' de little lady, massa," replied the girl, trembling with affright.
"Stupid, you must have misunderstood her," he said. "This way, Aunt Chloe."
The room to which he conducted them adjoined that appropriated to Mildred, and was equally large, airy, and cheerful; equally well furnished.
Aunt Chloe surveyed it with a look of relief and satisfaction, and bidding her send Sally for whatever was wanted for the child, Mr. Dinsmore left them and went down to his wife.
She read displeasure in his countenance, and drew out her handkerchief in preparation for her usual mode of defense.
"Pray, madam," he demanded in irate tone, "by whose orders was that cubby-hole prepared for the use of Horace's child?"
"That very nice little room next the nursery was the one selected by myself," she answered with dignity.
"Nice little room, indeed!" he returned with scorn; "ten feet by twelve! that for one born in a palace and reared, thus far, in the very lap of luxury!"
"Plenty good enough and big enough for old Grayson's grandchild!" observed the wife, turning up her aristocratic nose in supreme contempt.
"Madam, she is also my grandchild, and heiress in her own right to over a million."
Mrs. Dinsmore's look expressed, first, astonishment, then jealous rage and envy. "And the very incarnation of beauty!" she muttered between her clenched teeth. "What did you bring her here for--to cast our children into the shade? I hate her! What have you been doing? where have you put her?"
"The blue room! one of the very best in the house! the blue satin damask cushions of the chairs and sofas are so handsome and delicate! and to think of the sun being let in to fade them, and a baby rubbing its shoes over them, and scattering greasy crumbs on them; and that exquisite carpet! It's too trying for flesh and blood to stand!" and the handkerchief went up to her eyes.