Mrs. Mackridge had no
wit, but she had acquired the caustic voice and gestures along with the
old satins and trimmings of the great lady. When she told you it was a
fine morning, she seemed also to be telling you you were a fool and a
low fool to boot; when she was spoken to, she had a way of acknowledging
your poor tinkle of utterance with a voluminous, scornful "Haw!" that
made you want to burn her alive. She also had a way of saying "Indade!"
with a droop of the eyelids.
Mrs. Booch was a smaller woman, brown haired, with queer little curls on
either side of her face, large blue eyes and a small set of stereotyped
remarks that constituted her entire mental range. Mrs. Latude-Fernay has
left, oddly enough, no memory at all except her name and the effect of
a green-grey silk dress, all set with gold and blue buttons. I fancy she
was a large blonde. Then there was Miss Fison, the maid who served both
Lady Drew and Miss Somerville, and at the end of the table opposite my
mother, sat Rabbits the butler. Rabbits, for a butler, was an unassuming
man, and at tea he was not as you know butlers, but in a morning
coat and a black tie with blue spots.
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