Such was Miss Betsey McPherson, who, as she is to figure conspicuously in this story, merits this introduction to the reader, and who, in her black silk of a dozen years old, with a long, heavy gold chain around her neck and a cap fashioned after the English style upon her head, stood up very tall and stiff to receive Mrs. Geraldine, but did not bend her head when she saw it was that lady's intention to kiss her.
"I know she would as soon kiss a piece of sole-leather as me, and I would rather kiss a flour-barrel than that powdered face," was her thought; and so she only gave her hand to Mrs. Jerrold, who told her how glad she was to see her and how much she was pleased with her brother, the Hon. John McPherson, and his charming wife, the Lady Jane.
"Why have you never spoken of them to us? I should be proud of such relatives," she said; and Miss McPherson replied: "Umph! What's the use? I'm no better, no worse for them."
Just then the sound of bells was heard, and Hannah and Grey came in, and were received most cordially by Miss McPherson, who unbent to them as she had not done to the Boston lady. Indeed, there was something even tender in her voice as she spoke to Hannah and inquired after her father. Then, turning to Grey, she laid one hand on his head, and taking his chin in the other, looked searchingly in his face as she said: "I wonder if you are the same boy I used to like so much, or has a trip to Europe spoiled you, as it does so many Americans?"
"Not a bit of it," Grey answered, merrily. "Europe is grand; Europe is beautiful; but she is very old, and I like young America better, with her freedom and her go-ahead, even if she is not as intensely respectable, and dignified, as her mother across the water."
The dinner-bell here put an end to the conversation, and Lucy preceded her guests to the dining-room, followed by her brother, who had been more than usually affectionate in his greeting to his sister, whom he took in to dinner, while Grey escorted his mother and Miss McPherson.