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.
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