“But you know, Lucilla, it will be delightful for all you young ladies to have the officers,” said Mrs. Centum; “it keeps a place lively; though, for my part, I always say in six months there will not be a servant in the house that one can depend upon. It is dreadful for servants—especially young ones, and if they are nice-looking, you know; but it is very nice for the young ladies, and for all the picnics and dances and everything—”
“What officers?” said Lucilla, pricking up her ears—for to tell the truth, the very name of officers in a place like Carlingford, where nobody could flirt but Mr. Cavendish, was as water in the desert to Miss Marjoribanks’s soul.
“Has not the Doctor told you?” said Mrs. Centum—“but, to be sure, very few people know as yet. Mr. Centum says it must be all on your account, because you give such nice parties—but of course that is only his fun, you know. However, I suppose somebody has told Lord Palmerston of all those great buildings that were meant for the factories, and of Carlingford being such a healthy place. And so the General is coming to us tomorrow, Lucilla—General Travers, you know, that was in all the papers for something he did in India; Charles used to know him at school. He is quite handsome, and has ever so many medals and things. It is a dreadful addition to one’s troubles in holiday-time, you know; but, my dear, I hope you will ask him to your Thursdays, and help us to make Carlingford pleasant to him. It all depends upon him,” said Mrs. Centum solemnly;—“if he likes the place, and thinks it will do, and finds nice society—whether it is here or at Hampton that they establish the depot.”
“At Hampton!” cried Miss Marjoribanks naturally excited—“the stupidest, wretchedest little place—”
“That is just what Mr. Centum says,” said the visitor, with a sigh; “what I am nervous about is the servants, Lucilla; and you know that under-nurse of mine, what a nice steady girl she has always been, and such a comfort—but as soon as the soldiers come it turns their heads. I want you to tell me, if you’ll be so very good, Lucilla, how Nancy makes that paté that Mr. Centum is so fond of. I know it is a good deal to ask; but I am sure you are one to stand by your friends; and if the General should take a dislike to Carlingford through any fault of mine, I never could forgive myself; and I want you to ask him to your Thursdays, Lucilla—there’s a dear.”
“Dear Mrs. Centum,” cried Miss Marjoribanks, “papa must call on the General and ask him to dinner: as for my Thursdays, I always say they are not parties; they are only evenings,” said Lucilla sweetly, “and not worth a gentleman’s while.”
“And about the paté, Lucilla,” said Mrs. Centum anxiously, “I hope you won’t think it too much of me to ask;—you are so clever, you know, and so is Nancy: and what with the noise, and the nursery dinners, and all those big boys home from school—”
Mrs. Centum fixed her eyes with true solicitude on Lucilla’s face. Miss Marjoribanks was magnanimous, but the paté in question was one of the greatest triumphs of the Doctor’s table. She thought, and with truth, that it was a great deal for anyone to ask; but then it is true that genius has duties as well as privileges; and to impress upon mediocrity the benefit of loyally following and copying superior intelligence, is of itself a moral effect of the greatest importance. And besides, the woman who at such a moment produced a live General in Carlingford, and held out hopes of officers, was not a woman to be denied.
“I will write it down for you,” said Lucilla graciously, “if you think your cook will understand; or perhaps Nancy might step in and show her how—if I can persuade Nancy. Dear Mrs. Centum, I hope you will always feel sure that I am ready to do anything for my friends.”
“Oh, thank you, dear,” cried the grateful woman; “I knew you were not one to mind; and if Nancy would be so very kind—I am sure you will like the General,” added Mrs. Centum, with effusion; “he will live here, you know, if the depot comes, and be such an addition! I said to Charles, the moment he told me, That would just be the very thing for Lucilla! And he is quite young looking, and so nice and pleasant,” she added, in the fullness of her enthusiasm and gratitude. As for Miss Marjoribanks, she shook her head, but nevertheless received the assurance with a smile.
“It is not that sort of thing I am thinking of,” said Lucilla: “if it had been, I need never have come home; and now, after papa has been so kind about the drawing-room—; but I am always glad to hear of nice new people,” said Miss Marjoribanks; “and to meet a man that has been in the world is such a pleasure to papa.”
With this benign acknowledgment of the General’s merits, Lucilla received Mrs. Centum’s affectionate leave-takings. To be sure, she knew nothing, and did not occupy herself much at that moment about General Travers. But at the same time Miss Marjoribanks, with her usual piety, recognised the
