Chapter 14.15 - Shirley

Mrs. Pryor and Margaret Hall made room for her on the sofa between them. And when the three were seated, they formed a trio which the gay and thoughtless would have scorned—indeed, as quite worthless and unattractive—a middle-aged widow and two plain-spectacled old maids. Yet which had its own quiet value, as many a suffering and friendless human being knew. Shirley opened the business and showed the plan. "'I know the hand which drew up that,' said Mr. Hall, glancing at Miss Ainley and smiling benignantly. His approbation was one at once. Bolt be heard and deliberated with bent brow and protruded underlip, his consent he considered too weighty to be given in a hurry. Helston glanced sharply round with an alert, suspicious expression, as if he apprehended that female craft was at work, and that something in petticoats was somehow trying underhand to acquire too much influence and make itself of too much importance. Shirley caught and comprehended the expression. "'This scheme is nothing,' said she carelessly. "'It is only an outline, a mere suggestion. You gentlemen are requested to draw up rules of your own,' and she directly fetched her writing-case, smiling queerly to herself as she bent over the table where it stood. She produced a sheet of paper, a new pen, drew an armchair up to the table, and presenting her hand to old Helston, begged permission to install him in it. For a minute he was a little stiff, and stood wrinkling his copper-coloured forehead strangely. At last he muttered, "'Well, you are neither my wife nor my daughter, so I'll be led for once, but mind, I know I am led. Your little female manoeuvres don't blind me.'" "'Oh!' said Shirley, dipping the pen in the ink and putting it into his hand.