elevation of one of his gingerous eyebrows—certainly the one or the other—seemed to say to Mrs. Lammle, “Why don’t you play?” And so, looking about her, she saw Miss Podsnap, and seeming to say responsively, “That card?” and to be answered, “Yes,” went and sat beside Miss Podsnap.
Mrs. Lammle was overjoyed to escape into a corner for a little quiet talk.
It promised to be a very quiet talk, for Miss Podsnap replied in a flutter, “Oh! Indeed, it’s very kind of you, but I am afraid I don’t talk.”
“Let us make a beginning,” said the insinuating Mrs. Lammle, with her best smile.
“Oh! I am afraid you’ll find me very dull. But Ma talks!”
That was plainly to be seen, for Ma was talking then at her usual canter, with arched head and mane, opened eyes and nostrils.
“Fond of reading perhaps?”
“Yes. At least I—don’t mind that so much,” returned Miss Podsnap.
“M-m-m-m-music.” So insinuating was Mrs. Lammle that she got half a dozen ms into the word before she got it out.
“I haven’t nerve to play even if I could. Ma plays.”
(At exactly the same canter, and with a certain flourishing appearance of doing something, Ma did, in fact, occasionally take a rock upon the instrument.)
“Of course you like dancing?”
“Oh no, I don’t,” said Miss Podsnap.