best, and china of
every period and every style, upon every available bracket and shelf and
corner where a cup or a plate can be made to stand. Four large windows on
one side open on to the lawn; two, at right angles to them, lead into
a large conservatory, where there is, even at this dead season of the
year, a blaze of exotic blossoms that fill the room with their sweet rich
odour.
Mrs. Miller sits before a writing bureau of inlaid satin-wood of an
ancient pattern. She has her pen in her hand, and is docketing her
visiting list. Beatrice Miller sits on a low four-legged stool by her
mother's side, with a large Japanese china bowl on her knees filled with
cards, which she takes out one after the other, reading the names upon
them aloud to her mother before tossing them into a basket, also of
Japanese structure, which is on the floor in front of her.
Beatrice is Mrs. Miller's eldest daughter, and she is twenty. Guy is only
eleven months older, and Edwin is a year younger--they are both at
Oxford; next comes Geraldine, who is still in the school-room, but who is
hoping to come out next Easter; then Ernest and Charley, the Eton boys;
and lastly, Teddy and Ralph, who are at a famous preparatory school,
whence they hope, in process of time, to be drafted on to Eton, following
in the footsteps of their elder brothers.
Of all this large family it is Beatrice, the eldest daughter, who causes
her mother the most anxiety. Beatrice is like her mother--a plain but
clever-looking girl, with the dark swart features and colouring of the
Esterworths, who are not a handsome race. Added to which, she inherits
her father's short and somewhat stumpy figure. Such a personal appearance
in itself is enough to cause uneasiness to any mother who is anxious for
her daughter's future; but when these advantages of looks are rendered
still more peculiar by the fact that her hair had to be shaved off some
years ago when she had scarlet fever, and that it has never grown again
properly, but is worn short and loose about her face like a boy's, with
its black tresses tumbling into her eyes every time she looks down--and
when, added to this, Mrs. Miller also discovered to her mortification
that Beatrice possessed a will of her own, and so decided a method of
expressing her opinions and convictions, that she was not likely to be
easily moulded to her own views, you will, perhaps, understand the extent
of the difficulties with which she has to deal.
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