Read Online Anne Barbour by A Pressing Engagement - Free Book Online

with a sigh. “I recall the occasion upon which you recommended a series of galvanizing treatments for his gout. I myself would not have suggested a regimen so sadly out of date, but there was really no excuse for the tongue-lashing he gave you.”
    “And just a few weeks ago,” continued Lady Amabelle tearfully, “when I mentioned that if he persisted in consuming such quantities of port after dinner he should balance the effect with a dose of Dr. James’s Powders, I thought he would go off in a fit of apoplexy right on the spot.”
    “Well, I’m sure it’s no wonder!” interjected Lissa, her black eyes snapping. “Galvanizing! Goose grease! I never heard such fustian as your everlasting quacking. Aunt. Between you and Cousin Lydia, it’s enough to try the patience of a saint. Which,” she added fair-mindedly, “Grandpapa is a long way from being.”
    At the commencement of this short diatribe. Miss Bledsoe had begun an ineffectual twitter of protest, which was reinforced by a gasp of indignation from Lady Teague.
    “Lissa, that will do! Will you never learn to mind your tongue?”
    Miss Bledsoe continued twittering, and Mrs. Sample rumbled.
    “Indeed, Lissa, most unbecoming,” the latter said, “A young lady. ...”
    Lissa, her eyes flashing, opened her mouth, but was interrupted in her spirited rejoinder by the entrance of Mallow, who bore the intelligence that the doctor had come and gone, and Lord Chamford was at last requesting Lissa’s presence.
    The girl sprang to her feet, and, contenting herself with a darkling glance at her preceptresses, hurried from the room.
    Lady Teague was the first to speak.
    “I really don’t know what we’re going to do about that girl. She gets more and more unmanageable every day.” She cast a look of reproach at Miss Bledsoe, who squeaked even more agitatedly, and plaited the fringe of her shawl with trembling fingers.
    “One must be fair, Amabelle,” said Mrs. Sample judiciously. “Lissa has been a rare handful since the day she was born, and with the cosseting she has received from Lord Chamford, to say nothing of the indulgences heaped on her by her two older brothers, it’s simply not to be expected that she can be controlled by a governess or anyone else short of one of those Greek women.”
    “Greek women?” came the surprised query, in unison, from the others at the table.
    “Well, I think they were Greek. Big, strapping wenches—used to hunt and shoot, and they poked at people with spears.”
    At this, Diana choked on a bit of cold chicken.
    “I believe they were called Amazons, Mrs. Sample,” she said when she had recovered. “They weren’t real. That is, they are from classical mythology.”
    “You don’t say,” said Aunt Amabelle, obviously much impressed with Diana’s erudition. “Just as well, no doubt. They do not seem at all the sort of female one would want running tame in one’s household.”
    “No, indeed, ma’am,” agreed Diana, with barely a quiver in her voice.
    “At any rate,” continued her ladyship, “something must be done about Lissa.”
    “She is certainly one of the loveliest young girls I have ever seen,” said Diana, “and I do think—” Here she broke off, embarrassed that her instincts as a schoolmistress had overridden her social sense. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I have no business offering an opinion of a member of your family.”
    “Nothing of the sort, my dear.”
    “Good heavens,” added Mrs. Sample. “I’m sure the opinion of a well-bred young woman such as yourself could not help but be welcome.”
    Now it was Aunt Amabelle’s turn to choke. Red-faced and spluttering, she turned away offers of assistance from Mrs. Sample. Fortifying herself with a sip of water, she motioned Diana to continue.
    “Thank you, ma’am. You’re very kind. Well—I do think her liveliness of manner springs from an overabundance of sensibility rather than from an ungenerous spirit. She is at present very