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Updated: May 12, 2025
She's young, too, to have such a boy as Leonard; younger-looking, or full as young-looking as she is! I tell you what, Mimie, she looks younger than you. How old are you? Three-and-twenty, ain't it?" "Last March," replied Jemima. "You'll have to make haste and pick up somebody, if you're losing your good looks at this rate.
Never mind about that; but listen to something I've got to tell you, if you'll never, never tell." "No, indeed I won't, Mary. What is it?" "Not to Mrs Denbigh?" "No, not even to Mrs Denbigh." "Well, then, the other day last Friday, Mimie " "Jemima!" interrupted the more conscientious Elizabeth.
But I should be glad of any trifle, I am kept so confoundedly short." When Jemima returned with her little store, even her careless, selfish brother was struck by the wanness of her face, lighted by the bed-candle she carried. "Come, Mimie, don't give it up. If I were you, I would have a good try against Mrs Denbigh.
Besides, Farquhar is rich, and it's keeping the business of the firm in one's own family; and if he marries Mrs Denbigh she will be sure to be wanting Leonard in when he's of age, and I won't have that. Have a try for Farquhar, Mimie! Ten to one it's not too late. I wish I'd brought you a pink bonnet down. You go about so dowdy so careless of how you look."
"And, Mimie, dear," said her mother, "when you are there, look out for a new bonnet for yourself; she has got some very pretty ones, and your old one is so shabby." "It does for me, mother," said Jemima, heavily. "I don't want a new bonnet." "But I want you to have one, my lassie. I want my girl to look well and nice."
There was a little pause; Richard broke it by saying: "Do you know, Mimie, I've a notion, if she plays her cards well, she may hook Farquhar!" "Who?" asked Jemima, shortly, though she knew quite well. "Mrs Denbigh, to be sure. We were talking of her, you know.
It was once when Mr Farquhar had been telling us that a bullet does not go in a straight line, but in a something curve, and he drew some lines on a piece of paper; and Mimie " "Jemima," put in Elizabeth. "Well, well! she had treasured it up, and written in a corner, 'W. F., April 3rd. Now, that's rather like love, is not it?
Mary said the last words with grave emphasis, and felt like an oracle of twelve years of age. "I don't," said Lizzie. "I know I cry often enough when papa is cross, and I'm not in love with him." "Yes! but you don't look as Mimie did." "Don't call her Mimie you know papa does not like it." "Yes; but there are so many things papa does not like I can never remember them all.
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