The things we do!

Percy Sibwright engaged Miss Mackenzie with his usual grace and
affability. Mrs. Mackenzie did her very utmost to be gracious, but it was
evident the party was not altogether to her liking. Poor Percy, about
whose means and expectations she had in the most natural way in the world
asked information from me, was not perhaps a very eligible admirer for
darling Rosey. She knew not that Percy can no more help gallantry than
the sun can help shining. As soon as Rosey had done eating up her
pineapple, artlessly confessing (to Percy Sibwright's inquiries) that she
preferred it to the rasps and hinnyblobs in her grandmamma's garden,
"Now, dearest Rosey," cries Mrs. Mack, "now, a little song. You promised
Mr. Pendennis a little song." Honeyman whisks open the piano in a moment.
The widow takes off her cleaned gloves (Mrs. Sherrick's were new, and of
the best Paris make), and little Rosey sings No. 1, followed by No. 2,
with very great applause. Mother and daughter entwine as they quit the
piano.


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