"Fiddlestick. Don't tell me of not being well. There was Emily breaking her heart about you."
"I'm sure Miss Dunstable—"
"To tell you the truth, I think she'll get over it. It won't be mortal with her. But do tell me, Major Grantly, what are we to think about this poor Mr. Crawley? It was so good of you to be one of his bailsmen."
"He would have found twenty in Silverbridge, if he had wanted them."
"And do you hear that he has defied the bishop? I do so like him for that. Not but what poor Mrs. Proudie is the dearest friend I have in the world, and I'm always fighting a battle with old Lady Lufton on her behalf. But one likes to see one's friends worsted sometimes, you know."
"I don't quite understand what did happen at Hogglestock on Sunday," said the major.
"Some say he had the bishop's chaplain put under the pump. I don't believe that; but there is no doubt that when the poor fellow tried to get into the pulpit, they took him and carried him neck and heels out of the church. But, tell me, Major Grantly, what is to become of the family?"
"Heaven knows!"
"Is it not sad? And that eldest girl is so nice! They tell me that she is perfect,—not only in beauty, but in manners and accomplishments. Everybody says that she talks Greek just as well as she does English, and that she understands philosophy from the top to the bottom."
"At any rate, she is so good and so lovely that one cannot but pity her now," said the major.