"This is my darling, sweet Lucy, I perceive," the lady said in tones of soft rolling thunder as the young women came in.
"Come here, child, and embrace me! But this is not your sister? My sight begins to fail me so terribly; we must expect it, Mrs. Money, at our time of life."
Lucy tossed her head at this, and could hardly be civil. She was always putting in little protests, more or less distinctly expressed, against Lady Limpenny's classification of Mrs. Money and herself as on the same platform in the matter of age, and talking so openly of "their time of life." In truth, Mrs. Money was still quite a young-looking woman, while Lady Limpenny herself was a remarkably well-preserved and even handsome matron; a little perhaps too full-blown, and who might at the worst have sat fairly enough for a portrait of Hamlet's mother, according to the popular dramatic rendering of Queen Gertrude.
"No; this young lady is taller than Theresa. I can see that, although I have forgotten my glass. I always forget or mislay my glass."
"This is Miss Grey--Miss Minola Grey," said Mrs. Money. "Lady Limpenny, allow me to introduce my dear young friend, Miss Minola Grey."
"Dear child, what a sweet, pretty name! Now tell me, dearest, where did your people find out that name? I should so like to know."
"I think it was found in Shakespeare," Minola answered. "It was my mother's choice, I believe."
"A name in the family, no doubt. Some names run in families. I dare say you have had a--what is it?--Minola in your family in every generation. One cannot tell the origin of these things. I have often thought of making a study of family names. Now my name--Laura. There never was a generation of our family--we are the Atomleys--there never was a generation of the Atomleys without a Laura. Now, how curious, in my husband's family--Sir James Limpenny--in every generation one of the girls was always called by the pet name of Chat. Up to the days of the Conquest, I do believe--or is it the Confessor perhaps?--you would find a Chat Limpenny."
"There is a Chat Moss somewhere near Manchester," said Lucy saucily, still not forgiving the remark about the time of life. "We crossed it once in a railway."
"Oh, but that has nothing to do with it, Lucy darling--nothing at all. I am speaking of girls, you know--girls called by a pet name. I dare say that name was in my husband's family--oh, long before the place you speak of was ever discovered. But now, Miss Grey, do pray excuse me again--such a very charming name--Minola! But pray do excuse me: may I ask is that hair all your own? One is curious, you know, when one sees such wonderful hair."