One said it was a fan, and another a
feather; but Mrs. Margaret augured vast things from it, pronouncing that
the child surely belonged to some great person, and that no one could
say what might be the consequence of kindness shown to such a child.
As soon as Mr. Dymock came down into the breakfast-room, Mrs. Margaret
came swimming in with the child in her arms, exclaiming, "A pretty piece
of work you have done for me, nephew! I am under a fine servitude now;"
and she primmed up her mouth, but her eye laughed,--"little Miss here,
chooses to be waited on by me, and me only; and here I am, with nothing
to do but to attend on my lady."
"Little Miss," said Mr. Dymock, "what little Miss? who have you got
there?"
"Neither more nor less," replied Mrs. Margaret, "than your foundling."
"Impossible!" said Mr. Dymock: "Why, what have you done to her?"
"Merely washed, combed, and dressed her," said Mrs. Margaret; "give me
credit, nephew, and tell me what I have brought out by my diligence."
"You have brought out a brilliant from an unfinished stone," exclaimed
Mr. Dymock; "that is a beautiful child; I shall have extreme delight in
making as much of that fine mind, as you have done with that beautiful
exterior."
"Then you do not think of putting her in a foundling hospital or a
workhouse, nephew, as you proposed last night?" said Mrs.
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