But when you looked at his immovable countenance and his correct iron-grey whiskers, you understood at once that this was a man who knew what he was doing, and never neglected a detail of his duty.
Mrs. Warden passed through the little garden in front of the house, and entered the garden-room. The door to the adjoining room stood half open, and there she saw the lady of the house at a large table covered with rolls of light stuff and scattered numbers of the Bazar.
"Ah, you've come just at the right moment, my dear Emily!" cried Mrs. Abel, "I'm quite in despair over my dress-maker—she can't think of anything new. And here I'm sitting, ransacking the Bazar. Take off your shawl, dear, and come and help me; it's a walking-dress."
"I'm afraid I'm scarcely the person to help you in a matter of dress," answered Mrs. Warden.
Good-natured Mrs. Abel stared at her; there was something disquieting in her tone, and she had a vast respect for her rich friend.
"You remember I told you the other day that Warden had promised me—that's to say"— Mrs. Warden corrected herself—"he had asked me to order a new silk dress—"
"From Madame Labiche—of course!"—interrupted Mrs. Abel. "And I suppose you're on your way to her now? Oh, take me with you! It will be such fun!"
