How fond she is of me," George
said, as he perused the missive--"and Gad, what a headache that
mixed punch has given me!" Poor little Emmy, indeed.
CHAPTER XIV
Miss Crawley at Home
About this time there drove up to an exceedingly snug and well-
appointed house in Park Lane, a travelling chariot with a lozenge on
the panels, a discontented female in a green veil and crimped curls
on the rumble, and a large and confidential man on the box. It was
the equipage of our friend Miss Crawley, returning from Hants. The
carriage windows were shut; the fat spaniel, whose head and tongue
ordinarily lolled out of one of them, reposed on the lap of the
discontented female. When the vehicle stopped, a large round bundle
of shawls was taken out of the carriage by the aid of various
domestics and a young lady who accompanied the heap of cloaks. That
bundle contained Miss Crawley, who was conveyed upstairs forthwith,
and put into a bed and chamber warmed properly as for the reception
of an invalid. Messengers went off for her physician and medical
man. They came, consulted, prescribed, vanished. The young
companion of Miss Crawley, at the conclusion of their interview,
came in to receive their instructions, and administered those
antiphlogistic medicines which the eminent men ordered.
Captain Crawley of the Life Guards rode up from Knightsbridge
Barracks the next day; his black charger pawed the straw before his
invalid aunt's door.
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