198 The Real Charlotte. 



Mrs. Lambert was more than usually delighted to see her 

 ever-sympathising friend on this hot afternoon. One of her 

 chiefest merits in the turkey-hen's eyes was that she " was 

 as good as any doctor, and twice better than Dr. Rattray, 

 who would never believe the half she went through with pal- 

 pitations, and buzzings in her ears and roarings in her head," 

 and the first half hour or so of her visit was consumed in 

 mmute detail of her more recent symptoms. The fact that 

 large numbers of women entertain their visitors with biog- 

 raphies, mainly abusive, of their servants, has been dwelt on 

 to weariness by many writers ; but, nevertheless, in no history 

 of Mrs. Lambert could this characteristic be conscientiously 

 omitted. 



" Oh, my dear," she said, as her second cup of sweet 

 weak tea was entered upon, " you know that Eliza Hackett, 

 that I got with the highest recommendations from the 

 Honourable Miss Carrick, and thinking she'd be so steady, 

 being a Protestant ? Well, last Sunday she went to mass ! " 

 She paused, and Charlotte, one of whose most genuine 

 feelings was a detestation of Roman Catholics, exclaimed : 



" Goodness alive ! what did you let her do that for ? " 



" How could I stop her ? " answered Mrs. Lambert plain- 

 tively, " she never told one in the house she was going, and 

 this morning, when I was looking at the meat with her in 

 the larder, I took the opportunity to speak to her about it, 

 * Oh,' says she, turnmg round as cool as you please, ' I con- 

 sider the Irish Church hasn't the Apostolic succession ! ' " 



" You don't tell me that fat-faced Eliza Hackett said 

 that ? " ejaculated Charlotte. 



" She did, indeed," replied Mrs. Lambert deplorably ; " I 

 was quite upset. ' Eliza,' says I, ' I wonder you have the 

 impudence to talk to me like that. You that was taught 

 better by the Honourable Miss Carrick.' ' Ma'am,' says 

 she, up to my face, ' Moses and Aaron was two holy Roman 

 Catholic priests, and that's more than you can say of the 

 archdeacon ! ' ' Indeed, no,' says I, ' thank God he's not ! ' 

 but I ask you, Charlotte, what could I say to a woman like 

 that, that would wrest the Scriptures to her own purposes?" 



Even Charlotte's strong brain reeled in the attempt to 

 follow the arguments of Eliza the cook and Mrs. Lambert. 



'* Well, upon my word, Lucy, it's little I'd have argued 



