“You must be worn to a thread!” Selina said, leading her into the drawing-room. “And then to be obliged to go to London, in all that racket and bustle! I don’t think Mary should have asked it of you!”

“She didn’t: I invited myself, as a reward for not having got into a quarrel with Sir Francis. Never have I known a more glumpish, disagreeable man! I sincerely pity Jane, and forgive her all her peevishness. You can’t conceive how glad I was to see George’s good-humoured countenance when I reached Brook Street, and to be made so welcome by him and Mary! I enjoyed myself very much, and did a vast deal of shopping. Only wait until you see the bonnet I’ve brought for you: you will look charmingly in it! Then I bought ells of the prettiest muslins for Fanny, besides a quantity of fripperies for myself, and—But where is Fanny?”

“She will be so vexed not to have been here to welcome you!”

“Fiddle! why should she be? It’s Thursday, isn’t it? Then I collect she is at the cotillion-ball?”

“I thought there could be no objection,” Selina said, a little defensively. “Lady Weaverham invited her to dine, and to go to the Upper Rooms afterwards, in her party, and I consented to it, having then no apprehension that you would be with us again today.”

“Why, of course!” said Abby. “Very uncivil of Fanny it would have been to have cried off!”

“Exactly so!” said Selina eagerly. “With Lady Weaverham, too—such an amiable woman, as I know you must agree! Besides having two daughters, which makes it so particularly kind in her to have invited Fanny! Because it can’t be denied that our dearest is the prettiest girl in Bath!”

“Oh, out of cry! As for Lady Weaverham, no one could be more amiable—or more shatterbrained! I wish—No, never mind! I’m glad she has taken Fanny to the ball on this occasion, for I must talk to you about Fanny.”