Truly, there she was, immediately in front of us, curtsying, and smiling, and saying with her yesterday’s air of patronage, “The wards in Jarndyce! Ve-ry happy, I am sure!”
“You are out early, ma’am,” said I as she curtsied to me.
“Ye-es! I usually walk here early. Before the court sits. It’s retired. I collect my thoughts here for the business of the day,” said the old lady mincingly. “The business of the day requires a great deal of thought. Chancery justice is so ve-ry difficult to follow.”
“Who’s this, Miss Summerson?” whispered Miss Jellyby, drawing my arm tighter through her own.
The little old lady’s hearing was remarkably quick. She answered for herself directly.
“A suitor, my child. At your service. I have the honour to attend court regularly. With my documents. Have I the pleasure of addressing another of the youthful parties in Jarndyce?” said the old lady, recovering herself, with her head on one side, from a very low curtsy.
Richard, anxious to atone for his thoughtlessness of yesterday, good-naturedly explained that Miss Jellyby was not connected with the suit.
“Ha!” said the old lady. “She does not expect a judgment? She will still grow old. But not so old. Oh, dear, no! This is the garden of Lincoln’s Inn. I call it my garden. It is quite a bower in the summertime. Where the birds sing melodiously. I pass the greater part of the long vacation here. In contemplation. You find the long vacation exceedingly long, don’t you?”
We said yes, as she seemed to expect us to say so.
“When the leaves are falling from the trees and there are no more flowers in bloom to make up into nosegays for the Lord Chancellor’s court,”