The thriftiest of women in her personal expenditure, and needing money sorely, Madame was not grasping.

Indeed, her scruples on this subject were troublesome.

She was for ever pursuing us, book in hand, and with a sun-veil and umbrella to shield her complexion, into the garden or the hayfield, imploring us to come in out of the wind and sun, and do "a little of dictation--of composition," or even to permit her to hear us play that duet from the 'Semiramide,' of which the time had seemed to her on the last occasion far from perfect.
Her despair when Mrs.Arkwright supported our refusals was comical, and she was only pacified at last by having the "scrap-bag" of odds and ends of net, muslin, lace, and embroidery handed over to her, from which she made us set after set of dainty collars and sleeves in various "modes," sitting well under the shade of the trees, on a camp-stool, with a camphor-bag to keep away insects, and in bodily fear of the dogs.
Poor Madame! I thought she would have had a fit on the first night of her arrival, when the customary civility was paid of offering her a dog to sleep on her bed.

She never got really accustomed to them, and they never seemed quite to understand her.

To the end of her stay they snuffed at her black skirts suspiciously, as if she were still more or less of an enigma to them.