Tickle the ears of their reverences with any idle nonsense you please: but tell them nothing you care to have repeated. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. Take me with you. And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver.
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