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The proposed expedition being one of paramount importance, Mrs
Jarley adjusted Nell's bonnet with her own hands, and declaring that
she certainly did look very pretty, and reflected credit on the
establishment, dismissed her with many commendations, and certain
needful directions as to the turnings on the right which she was to
take, and the turnings on the left which she was to avoid. Thus
instructed, Nell had no difficulty in finding out Miss Monflathers's
Boarding and Day Establishment, which was a large house, with a
high wall, and a large garden-gate with a large brass plate, and a
small grating through which Miss Monflathers's parlour-maid
inspected all visitors before admitting them; for nothing in the shape
of a man - no, not even a milkman - was suffered, without special
license, to pass that gate. Even the tax-gatherer, who was stout, and
wore spectacles and a broad-brimmed hat, had the taxes handed
through the grating. More obdurate than gate of adamant or brass,
this gate of Miss Monflathers's frowned on all mankind. The very
butcher respected it as a gate of mystery, and left off whistling when
he rang the bell.
As Nell approached the awful door, it turned slowly upon its hinges
with a creaking noise, and, forth from the solemn grove beyond, came
a long file of young ladies, two and two, all with open books in their
hands, and some with parasols likewise. And last of the goodly
procession came Miss Monflathers, bearing herself a parasol of lilac
silk, and supported by two smiling teachers, each mortally envious of
the other, and devoted unto Miss Monflathers.
Confused by the looks and whispers of the girls, Nell stood with
downcast eyes and suffered the procession to pass on, until Miss
Monflathers, bringing up the rear, approached her, when she
curtseyed and presented her little packet; on receipt whereof Miss
Monflathers commanded that the line should halt.
'
'
You're the wax-work child, are you not?' said Miss Monflathers.
Yes, ma'am,' replied Nell, colouring deeply, for the young ladies had
collected about her, and she was the centre on which all eyes were
fixed.
'And don't you think you must be a very wicked little child,' said Miss
Monflathers, who was of rather uncertain temper, and lost no
opportunity of impressing moral truths upon the tender minds of the
young ladies, 'to be a wax-work child at all?'
Poor Nell had never viewed her position in this light, and not knowing
what to say, remained silent, blushing more deeply than before.
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