He was certain that he must have stayed at least half an hour beyond
the time when he ought to be with the sisters. Anticipating very
haughty looks, and perhaps a reprimand, he knocked at the door, and
was again shown into the library. Miss Euphemia was alone.
He offered some indistinct excuse for having made her wait; but
Euphemia, with good-humored alacrity, interrupted him.
"O pray, don't mind; you have made nobody wait but me, and I can
easily forgive it; for mamma and my sister chose to go out at one, it
being May-day, to see the chimney-sweepers dine at Mrs.
Montague's.[Footnote: This was a gay spectacle, and a most kind act
to these poor children, who thus once a-year found themselves
refreshed and happy. They resorted to the green court-yard of Mrs.
Montague's house every May-day, about one o'clock, dressed in their
gala wreaths, and sporting with their brushes and shovels, where they
found a good dinner, kind words from their hostess and her guests,
and each little sweep received a shilling at parting. On the death of
Mrs. Montague, this humane and pleasurable spectacle ceased.] They
did as they liked, and I preferred staying at home to repeat my
lesson."
Thaddeus, thanking her for her indulgence, sat down, and taking the
book, began to question her. Not one word could she recollect. She
smiled.
"I am afraid, madam, you have never thought of it since yesterday
morning.
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