"
Frederica dropped her handkerchief, and picked it up again
exactly as she had it before.
"Try again —" said Mrs. Sandford. "Grasp it, as Theresa says.
Never mind how you are taking it up."
"Must I throw it down again?"
"If you please."
"Take it up any way but in the middle," said Hamilton.
Down went the handkerchief on a chair, and then Frederica's
fingers took it up, delicately, and with a little shake
displayed as before what Hamilton called the flowers in the
corners. It was the same thing. They all smiled.
"She can't hold a handkerchief any but the one way — I don't
believe," said her brother Alexander.
"Isn't it right?" said Frederica.
"Perfect, I presume, for Madison Square or Fifth Avenue — but
not exactly for a revolutionary tribunal," said Hamilton.
"What is the difference?"
"Ah, that is exactly what it is so hard to get at. Hollo!
Preston — is it Preston? Can't be better, Preston. Admirable!
admirable!"
"Well, Preston, I do not know you!" said Mrs. Sandford.
Was it Preston? Daisy could hardly believe her ears. Her eyes
certainly told her another story. Was it Preston? in the guise
and with the face of an extremely ugly old woman — vicious and
malignant, — who? taking post near the deposed queen, peered
into her face with spiteful curiosity and exultation.
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