"I am going to try and tack it with a kiss, sister,--there!--oh, what a pity that sort of fastening won't always hold!--where's the cameo with the fawns, I gave you last night?--Ah! on the slab--you were going to wear it then?--Thank you, my considerate and most politic sister--there!--but stop--here's a ringlet gone romping--so now, dear sister, give that Assyrian toss to your head."
The haughtily happy mother rose to her feet, and as she stood before the mirror to criticize her son's adornings, Pierre, noticing the straggling tie of her slipper, knelt down and secured it. "And now for the urn," he cried, "madam!" and with a humorous gallantry, offering his arm to his mother, the pair descended to breakfast.
With Mrs. Glendinning it was one of those spontaneous maxims, which women somet
