"No, no, Patty; Kings and Lord Mayors don't send Poets to Newgate, for being careless of other Poets' Papers. You make me laugh at my own Annoyance, you caricature it so! I have quite cleared up, now—I shall not think of it again; unless with a Smile. But I heartily thank you for your warm Sympathy, dear Patty!"
"Ah, Sir!—"
"Yes, Patty, for your acceptable, your salutary Sympathy."
And he cordially pressed my Hand. I withdrew it, and slipped away; but with a Feeling of Consolation and Complacence to which my lone Heart had of late been a Stranger. I wiped away a Tear, and went to pack my Box.
"In a brotherly sort of Way," thought I; "he regards me kindly. Nothing more."
Oh! what awful Work it is, when Sisters are jealous of one another! The nearer the Heart, the greater the Smart. The closer the Kin, the greater the Sin. My Heart was in that State, that the least Injury, real or supposed, made me ready to cry out; and yet I must look out jealously for new Injuries, as if I had not enough already. As for Prue, she was in a most unpleasant Humour, snappish and reckless, or merry and unfeeling: laughing twice as much as there was Need, at the merest Trifle; or requiring to be spoke to twice before she heard or made Answer. There was no Confidence between us now; and if she had made any Approach to it, I should have started away from it. I was glad when she was going about, Sightseeing, with Tom; for, as she truly said, she was so soon to have all the Work to do, that she might as well take her Pleasure while she could: only it was not spoken kindly. As for Tom, he had been Home and back again: he had taken down his Monkey to his Mother, but had soon got tired, I fancy, of country Quiet, (which, he said, was as dull as a Roari-torio,) so made an Excuse to run up to Town again on some sea-faring Business. However, he had only left Home for a few Days, and meant to return to it as soon as he had squired me to the Old Angel; though I told him I had not the least Need of his Protection, and wanted Nobody but Peter to go with me. He would not have it so; but got up some Hours before Light, brisk as a Lark, to see me off, like a good-tempered Fellow as he was. He talked all Sorts of Rhodomontade by the Way, that amused me in spite of myself; and, just as we got to the Inn-yard, asked me how often I thought he had been in Love.
"Never once," said I.
"Then, there you're quite out," said he, "for I've been in Love four Times." Here a Man ran against him with a Box. "You might have put out my Eye," says Tom to him; "however, as you didn't, it's no Matter." Here we got to the Booking-office, and waited there while the dirty old Coach was being washed.
"Four Times," repeated Tom, returning to his Subject, "and I'll tell you who with."