“My dear sister, are we so befriended by Fortune that we can afford to reject the kindness of our fellows?”
“I'm no believer in chance friendships, Peter Barrington; neither you nor I are such interesting orphans as to inspire sympathy at first sight.”
Josephine could not help a laugh at Miss Dinah's illustration, and old Barriqgton himself heartily joined in the merriment, not sorry the while to draw the discussion into a less stern field. “Come, come, Dinah,” said he, gayly, “let us put out a few bottles of that old Madeira in the sun; and if Darby can find us a salmon-trout, we 'll do our best to entertain our visitors.”
“It never occurred to me to doubt the probability of their enjoying themselves, Peter; my anxieties were quite on another score.”
“Now, Fifine,” continued Barrington, “we shall see if Polly Dill has really made you the perfect housekeeper she boasted. The next day or two will put your talents to the test.”
“Oh, if we could only have Polly herself here!”
“What for?—on what pretext, Miss Barrington?” said Dinah, haughtily. “I have not, so far as I am aware, been accounted very ignorant of household cares.”
“Withering declares that your equal is not in Europe, Dinah.”
“Mr. Withering's suffrage can always be bought by a mock-turtle soup, and a glass of Roman punch after it.”
“How he likes it,—how he relishes it! He says that he comes back to the rest of the dinner with the freshness of a man at an assize case.”