"Oh! 0 Dick!" cried Lisbeth at this moment, "Dick - there's Aunt!"
"Aunt?" I repeated.
"Aunt Agatha, and she sees us; look!"
Turning my head, I beheld a most unexpected sight. Advancing
directly upon us was the old boat, that identical, weather-beaten
tub of a boat which Lisbeth and I had come so near ending our lives
together, the which has already been told in these Chronicles. On
the rowing-thwart sat Peter, the coachman, and in the stern-sheets,
very grim and stiff in the back, her lorgnettes at her eyes, was
Lady Warburton.
Escape was quite out of the question, and in half a dozen strokes
of the oar we were alongside and close under the battery of the
lorgnettes.
"Elizabeth," she began in her most ponderous manner, ignoring my
presence altogether, "Elizabeth, child, I blush for you."
"Then, Aunt, please don't," cried Lisbeth; "I can do quite enough
of that for myself. I'm always blushing lately," and as if to
prove her words she immediately proceeded to do so.
"Elizabeth," proceeded Lady Warburton, making great play with her
lorgnettes, "your very shameless, ungrateful letter I received last
night.
Pages:
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205