"I am much obliged; you are all kindness," returned Harriet very gravely, "I dare say you read a great deal."
"No, not so much as you would think," said Mr. Humphries, all unconscious of irony; "what with hunting, and shooting, and angling—I am very fond of angling—the whole year passes away. But my mother is always reading."
"Said mother," said Harriet, pulling Margaret close to her, and wheeling her chair a little out of the circle, "said mother has a dower-house to which to retire whenever the seal marries; so don't let the vision of a cross old woman always reading 'Nelson's Fasts and Festivals' deter you; if you have a mind."
"Oh, Harriet! you should not make me laugh before all the people."
"No, you stand it vastly well; you look very demure I assure you. His name is William."
These last words pronounced in a very pathetic tone of voice, rather tended to discompose the tranquillity upon which she had complimented her friend; but Margaret took the chair at a sufficient distance to protect her from Harriet's provoking asides. George Gage and Mr. Humphries came and talked to her; the other young ladies occupied the piano in turn, and so the evening passed.
CHAPTER IV.
Young ladies, sir, are long and curious
In putting on their trims; forget how day goes
And then 'tis their good morrow when they are ready.