“Nay, I don’t please about the matter, Lydia; but I am sure you had an excellent bargain of my lavender satin, which I had only worn but twice.”
“Dear heart!—La, ma’am! if you knew what trouble I had with Mrs. Sparkes, the dress-maker, about it, because of the coffee-stain—And I vow to my stars I am ashamed to mention it; but Mrs. Scrags, Lady Trant’s woman, and both the Lady Arlingtons’ maids, can vouch for the truth of it. I did not make a penny, but lost, ma’am, last year, by you and Miss Bell; that is, not by you nor Miss Bell, but by all I bought, and sold to disadvantage; which, I am morally certain, you would not have permitted, had you known of it, as I told Mrs. Scrags, who was wondering and pitying of me: my young ladies, Mrs. Scrags, says I—”
“No matter,” interrupted Georgiana; “no matter what you said to Mrs. Scrags, or Mrs. Scrags to you—but tell me at once, Lydia, what you can afford to give me for these three gowns.”
“I afford to give!” said Lydia Sharpe. “Well, the times is past, to be sure, and greatly changed, since ladies used to give, but now it’s their maids must give—then, suppose—let’s see, ma’am—for the three, the old white satin, and the amber satin, and the black lace—why, ma’am, if you’d throw me the pink crape into the bargain, I don’t doubt but I could afford to give you nine guineas, ma’am,” said the maid.
“Then, Lydia Sharpe, you will never have them, I promise you,” cried the mistress: “Nine guineas! how can you have the assurance to offer me such a sum? As if I had never bought a gown in my life, and did not know the value or price of any thing! Do you take me for a fool?”
“Oh! dear no, miss—I’m confident that you know the value and price to the uttermost penny—but only you forget that there’s a difference betwixt the buying and selling price for ladies; but if you please, ma’am—I would do any thing to oblige and accommodate you—I will consult the Lady Arlingtons’ women, Miss Flora, and Miss Prichard, who is judges in this line—most honourable appraisers; and if they praise the articles, on inspection, a shilling higher, I am sure I shall submit to their jurisdiction—if they say ten guineas, ma’am, you shall have it, for I love to be at a word and a blow—and to do every thing genteel: so I’ll step and consult my friends, ma’am, and give you my ultimatum in half an hour.”
So saying, whilst her young mistress stood flushed and swelling with pride and anger, which, however, the sense of her own convenience and interest controlled, the maid swept up the many coloured robes in her arms, and carried them up the back stairs, to hold her consultation with her friends, the most honourable of appraisers.
“Well, my dear,” said Mrs. Falconer, returning as she heard the maid quit the room, “have you driven your bargain for the loan? Have you raised the supplies?”
“No, indeed, ma’am—for Lydia is grown a perfect Jew. She may well say she is related to Sharpe, the attorney—she is the keenest, most interested creature in the world—and grown very saucy too.”
“Like all those people, my dear; but one can’t do without them.”