I entered
the room with considerable _empressement_, but when my eye detected
the dim outline of a circle of bonneted figures, I stopped in despair
in the middle of the room, not knowing which was which, or whom I
ought to speak to first, and at last made an embarrassed half-bow,
half-courtesy, to the company in general. A confused murmur of
greetings and introductions followed, and, throwing aside my air of
stiff, ceremonious politeness, I rushed, with a smiling face, to the
nearest lady, shook hands with her in the most cordial manner, and
then, in passing, bowed formally to the next, who I concluded was the
stranger. What then was my surprise and utter confusion when she
caught me by the hand, and, drawing me towards her, kissed me
emphatically several times. "How _do_ you do, dear? Have you quite
forgotten me? Ah! You don't remember the times when you used to ride a
cock-horse, on my knee, to Banbury Cross, to see the old lady get on
her white horse!" What could I say? I was petrified. I could not
smile, I could not speak. My only feeling was mortification at my most
awkward mistake. Yet I ought to have become accustomed to such
embarrassments, for they are of very frequent occurrence.
"Why, Julia! what is the matter? How strangely your eyes look!" My
sister at this exclamation turns round, and I discover that from the
other end of the room I have been gazing at the unexpressive features
of her "back hair," which is twisted in a "pug," or "bob,"--which is
the correct term?--and surmounted by a tortoise-shell comb.
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