"'Pon my Honour, I'm ashamed of them," says Mr. Caryl, covering his Face in his Cambric Handkerchief.
"Where are my Senses, I say?" recommences my Father; on which Mr. Caryl, unable to stand it any longer, rushes into the Shop, and Mr. Fenwick after him. There we hear them, while my poor Father still continues raging, giving way to fresh Peals of Laughter, which they vainly attempt to smother; and at length Mr. Caryl departs, without returning to wish us good bye; and Dr. Elwes shortly goes also, giving us knowing Looks, and advising Gatty and me to go immediately to Bed. And so ended the Evening.
Chapter V.
Two Poets under a Dairy-Window.
Next Morning, my Father at his Breakfast questioned us straitly as to what had been going on during his Absence, and seemed scarcely to know whether to take Offence at it or not. The receiving and nursing a Stranger under Mrs. Gatty's Circumstances would have been Something to cavil at; but then she was own Woman to Lady Betty, for whom, though he only knew her in Public, he entertained great Respect; and besides, Mrs. Gatty was a fine Woman, which of itself was a Letter of Recommendation to him. Moreover, she sat by all the While, knitting a White Silk Mitten; so that he could not, for Manners, speak against her in her Hearing; and my Father, when himself, was a well-mannered Man. So he hemmed once or twice, and swallowed any Objections he might have made, had we been by ourselves; and then, to turn the Subject, "Mrs. Gatty," says he, "that Mitten will become your Hand well; but most other Women's Fingers, coming out of it, would look like Radishes. And now, let us clear Decks, and make way for the Carpenters."
"The Carpenters, Father?" repeated Prue and I in a breath.