“I mean to become as good a painter as I can, in order to be worthy of the name of Burney,” said he. “I feel proud of being a Burney—more so to-day than ever before, and I hope that the rest of the Burneys will some day look on me as doing credit to our name.”
“I am sure that they will have every reason to do so,” said Fanny.
When he had gone, Susy gave way to her delight at the news which he had brought. She was a good deal taller than Fanny, and catching her round the waist after the manner of the Elizabethan dancer with his partner, she danced round the table with her, lilting a somewhat breathless pæan. Fanny herself needed no coaxing to be her partner in this revel. In her jubilant moments she got rid of the primness which most people associated with her. She had a wild jig known as “Nancy Dawson,” and she had more than once found it necessary to get rid of her superfluous spirits through this medium. She joined in her sister’s little whoop at the completion of the third “lap” of the table, and they both threw themselves breathless on the sofa.
“I knew it,” said Susy between her gasps. “I knew that I could not be mistaken in believing ‘Evelina’ to be good—I knew that she would make her way in the affections of her readers, and I was right—you see I was right.”
“You were right, dear Susy—quite right,” said Fanny. “I do not like to be too sanguine, but I do believe, from the reports Eddy brought us, that the book will find plenty of readers. Now that we can think over the matter in a reasonable way, we must see how foolish we were to expect that the very day after the book was published people would crowd to buy it; but now, after six weeks, when Eddy goes in search of news about it, he brings back a report which is—we had best say for the present no more than ‘quite satisfactory’—that was the bookseller’s report about the sales of the first volume of the padre’s ‘History’—‘quite satisfactory’—that should be quite satisfactory for the author of ‘Evelina’ and her sisters. There is nothing in the book to stir people as it would if written by Mr. Wilkes, but in its humble way it will, I am now persuaded, be pronounced ‘quite satisfactory.’ At any rate, there goes my sewing for the evening.”
She rolled up the strip of linen into a ball and used her hand, after two false starts, as a battledore, to send it flying across the room within reach of Susy, who, being more adroit, was able at the first attempt to return it with both force and precision. Once more Fanny struck it, and her sister sent it back, but by this time the unequal ball had opened out, so that it was only by her foot that Fanny could deal with it effectively. Then, daintily holding up their petticoats, the author of ‘Evelina’ and Susy Burney played with the thing until once more they were panting and laughing joyously.
Perhaps Fanny had a faint inkling of the symbolism implied by this treatment of the discarded needlework.