“True; but I can’t believe he proposed for Mrs. Dutton.”
“Not actually proposed, because I would not let him; for I should have hated to have had such an unfashionable-looking woman for my sister-in-law. I never could have borne to go into public with her, you know: so I plagued my brother out of it; and luckily he found out that her jointure is not half so great as it was said to be.”
“I could have told him that. Mrs. Dutton’s jointure is nothing nearly so large as mine was, even before the addition to it which my son so handsomely, and indeed unexpectedly, made to it this morning. And did I tell you, my dear? Mr. Palmer, this day, has been so kind as to leave me all his immense fortune for my own life. But don’t mention it, lest it should get round, and make ill-will: the Walsinghams know nothing of it. But to return to your poor brother—if I could any way serve him with Mrs. Dutton?”
“La! he’d never think of her more—and I’m sure I would not have him.”
“You dear little saucy creature! indeed I cannot wonder that you don’t like the thoughts of Mrs. Dutton for a chaperon in town.”
“Oh, horrid! horrid!”
“And yet, would you condemn your poor brother to be an old bachelor, after this disappointment with Amelia?”
“La, ma’am, can’t he marry any body but Mrs. Dutton?”
“I wish I could think of any person would suit him. Can you?’
“Oh, I know very well who I think would suit him, and one I like to go into public with of all things.”