Goodenough proceeded to his men, who were in truth standing idle, as it was their custom to do when their master’s eye was not, as they thought, upon them; for he kept them so hard at work, when he was present, that not a labouring man in the country would hire himself to Goodenough, when he could get employment elsewhere. Goodenough’s partizans, however, observed that he got his money’s worth out of every man he employed; and that this was the way to grow rich. The question, said they, is not which of the three nephews will be the best beloved, but which will be the richest at the end of ten years; and, on this ground, who can dispute that Goodenough’s maxim is the best, “Charity begins at home?” Wright’s friends looked rather alarmed when they heard of this journey to York; and Marvel’s advocates, though they put a good face upon the matter, heartily wished him safe home.
Upon Wright’s arrival in York, he found it no easy matter to discover his cousin Marvel; for he had forgotten to date his letter, and no direction was given to inn or lodging: at last, after inquiring at all the public-houses without success, Wright bethought himself of asking where Miss Alicia Barton, the actress, lodged; for there he would probably meet her lover. Mr. Harrison, an eminent dyer, to whom he applied for information, very civilly offered to show him to the house. Wright had gained this dyer’s good opinion by the punctuality with which he had, for three years past, supplied him, at the day and hour appointed, with the quantity of woad for which he had agreed. Punctuality never fails to gain the good opinion of men of business.
As the dyer walked with Wright to Miss Barton’s lodgings, they entered into conversation about her; and Wright asked what character she bore. “I know nothing of her character for my own share,” said Harrison, “not being in that line of business; but I think I could put you into a way of seeing her in her true colours, whatever they may be; for she is very intimate with a milliner, whom my wife (though not with my good-will entirely) visits. In return for which, I shall be glad that you will do my business along with your own; and let me know if any thing is going wrong.”
The dyer introduced Wright to the milliner as a gentleman farmer, who wanted to take home with him a fashionable cap and bonnet, or two, for some ladies in Lincolnshire. The milliner ordered down some dusty bandboxes, which she protested and vowed were just arrived from London with the newest fashions; and, whilst she was displaying these, Wright talked of the races, and the players, and Miss Alicia Barton.
“Is she as handsome as they say? I have a huge cur’osity to see her,” said Wright, feigning more rusticity of manner and more simplicity than was natural to him. “I have, truly, a woundy cur’osity to see her, I’ve heard so much of her, even down in Lincolnshire.”
“If you go to see the play, sir, you can’t fail to have your curiosity gratified, for Miss Barton plays to-night—(Jenny! reach me a play-bill)—for her own benefit, and appears in her very best character, the Romp.”
“The Romp!—Odds! Is that her best character? Why, now, to my notion, bad’s the best, if that be the best of her characters. The Romp!—Odds so! What would our grandmothers say to that?”
“Oh, sir, times are changed, as well as fashions, since our grandmothers’ days,” said the milliner. “Put up this bonnet for the gentleman, Jenny.—I am sure I don’t pretend to say any thing in favour of the times, whatever I may of the fashions. But, as to fashion, to be sure no one can be more fashionable, here in York, than Miss Barton. All our gentlemen are dying for her.”
“Odds my life, I’ll keep out of her way! And yet I’ve a huge cur’osity to set my eyes upon her. Pray, now, could I any way get to the sight or speech of her in a room, or so? for seeing a woman on the stage is one thing, and seeing her off, as I take it, is another.”
“I take it so too, sir. Jenny, put up the cap for the gentleman, and make out a bill.”