"It's Nicholas Dillon, I'll bet twopence," said Greg, jumping up to
rush into the other room: "he's come about the black colt, I know."

"Stay where you are, Greg; and don't go in there with your dirty face
and fingers;" and, after speculating a little longer, the lady went
into the drawing-room herself; though, to tell the truth, her own face
and fingers were hardly in a state suitable for receiving company.

Mrs Armstrong marched into the drawing-room with something of a stately
air, to meet the strange gentleman, and there she found her old friend
Lord Ballindine. Whoever called at the rectory, and at whatever hour
the visit might be made, poor Mrs Armstrong was sure to apologise for
the confusion in which she was found. She had always just got rid of a
servant, and could not get another that suited her; or there was some
other commonplace reason for her being discovered _en déshabille_
[40]. However, she managed to talk to Frank for a minute or two with
tolerable volubility, till her eyes happening to dwell on her own
hands, which were certainly not as white as a lady's should be, she
became a little uncomfortable and embarrassed--tried to hide them in
her drapery--then remembered that she had on her morning slippers,
which were rather the worse for wear; and, feeling too much ashamed of
her _tout ensemble_ to remain, hurried out of the room, saying that she
would go and see where Armstrong could possibly have got himself to.
She did not appear again to Lord Ballindine.

[FOOTNOTE 40: en déshabille--(French) partly or scantily dressed]

Poor Mrs Armstrong!--though she looked so little like one, she had
been brought up as a lady, carefully and delicately; and her lot was