“I was near ten years old, child, ere coffee came into England; and tea was some years later. The first coffee-house that ever was in this realm was set up at Oxford, of one Jacobs, a Jew; and about two years after was the first in London. For tea, ’twas said Queen Catherine brought it hither from Portingale; but in truth, I believe ’twas known among us somewhat sooner. But when it came in, for a long time none knew how to use it, except at the coffee-houses. I could tell you a droll tale of a neighbour of Farmer Ingham’s, that had a parcel of tea sent her as a great present from London, with a letter that said ’twas all the mode with the quality. And what did she, think you, but boiled it like cabbage, and bade all her neighbours come taste the new greens.”
“Did they like them?” asked Rhoda, as well as she could speak for laughing.
“I heard they all thought with their hostess, who said, ‘If those were quality greens, the quality were welcome to keep ’em; country folk would rather have cabbage and spinach any day.’”
“Well!” said Rhoda, bridling a little, when her amusement had subsided; “’tis very silly for mean people to ape the quality.”
“It is so, my dear,” replied Mrs Dorothy, with that extreme quietness which was the nearest her gentle spirit could come to irony. “’Tis silly for any to ape another, be he less or more.”
“Why, there can be no communication between them,” observed Rhoda, with a toss of her head.
“‘Communication,’ my dear,” said Mrs Dolly. “Yonder’s a new word. Where did you pick it up?”
“O Mrs Dolly! you can’t be in the mode if you don’t pick up all the new words,” answered Rhoda more affectedly than ever. She was showing off now, and was entirely in her element.
“And pray what are the other new words, my dear?” inquired Mrs Dorothy good-naturedly, and not without a little amusement. “That one sounds very much like the old-fashioned ‘commerce.’”
“Well, I don’t know them all!” said Rhoda, with an assumption of humility; “but now-o’-days, when you speak of any one’s direction, you must say adresse, from the French; and if one is out of spirits, you say he is hipped—that’s from hypochondriacal; and a crowd of people is a mob—that’s short for mobile; and when a man goes about, and doesn’t want to be known, you say he is incog.—that means incognito, which is the Spanish for unknown. Then you say Mr Such-an-one spends to the tune of five hundred a year; and there are a lot of men of his kidney; and I bantered them well about it. Oh, there are lots of new words, Mrs Dolly.”