and would see the young lady with
the greatest pleasure in life. "Mr. Slope, might I trouble you to ring
the bell?" said she, and when Mr. Slope got up, she looked at Mr.
Thorne and pointed to the chair. Mr. Thorne, however, was much too slow
to understand her, and Mr. Slope would have recovered his seat had not
the signora, who never chose to be unsuccessful, somewhat summarily
ordered him out of it.

"Oh, Mr. Slope, I must ask you to let Mr. Thorne sit here just for a
moment or two. I am sure you will pardon me. We can take a liberty
with you this week. Next week, you know, when you move into the dean's
house, we shall all be afraid of you."

Mr. Slope, with an air of much indifference, rose from his seat and,
walking into the next room, became greatly interested in Mrs.
Stanhope's worsted work.

And then the child was brought in. She was a little girl, about eight
years of age, like her mother, only that her enormous eyes were
black, and her hair quite jet. Her complexion, too, was very dark and
bespoke her foreign blood. She was dressed in the most outlandish and
extravagant way in which clothes could be put on a child's back. She
had great bracelets on her naked little arms, a crimson fillet braided
with gold round her head, and scarlet shoes with high heels. Her dress
was all flounces and stuck out from her as though the object were to
make it lie off horizontally from her little hips. It did not nearly
cover her knees, but this was atoned for by a loose pair of drawers,
which seemed made throughout of lace; then she had on pink silk
stockings. It was thus that the last of the Neros was habitually
dressed at the hour when visitors were wont to call.

"Julia, my love," said the mother--Julia was ever a favourite name
with the ladies of that family. "Julia, my love, come here. I was
telling you about the beautiful party poor Mamma went to. This is Mr.
Thorne; will you give him a kiss, dearest?"

Julia put up her face to be kissed, as she did to all her mother's
visitors, and then Mr. Thorne found that he had got her and, what was
much more terrific to him, all her finery, into his arms. The lace
and starch crumpled against his waistcoat and trousers, the greasy
black curls hung upon his cheek, and one of the bracelet clasps
scratched his ear. He did not at all know how to hold so magnificent
a lady, nor holding her what to do with her. However, he had on other
occasions been compelled to fondle little nieces