"Only think of my affairs becoming so public, as my wishes to be known like that. You are a dangerous person, I know of old, Mrs. Turner!"
"Well, I must be going—I have to call on the Greenes this morning—sweet girls, the Greenes, ain't they—amazingly clever—very plain though—well, well, one can't have everything; do you know, I plague George about being in love with Ann Greene, and he cannot bear the sight of her in consequence—it is such fun."
"I know very little of the Greenes," observed Mrs. Watson, grandly, "they are not in our set. I dare say soap-boiling is a very good trade; but I have a fancy it must soil the fingers. Mr. Millar will not meet the Greenes here at all."
Mrs. Turner did not stay to defend the Greenes from the aspersions cast on them by the amiable Mrs. Watson, but hurried away to praise them to themselves, certain that in this case her eulogy would be well received.
Hardly had she left the room, when Robert entered, with an open letter in his hand, and enquired of Emma, if she had written as he desired her to do. Emma acknowledged that she had not.
"Then do it directly," said he, "and learn never to delay letters of business—always do what you have to do at once—it is idle, and worse to put it off."
Emma did not attempt to offer any excuse, but was preparing to leave the room to obey, when Jane stopped her, and recommended her remaining where she was to write; there were plenty of paper, pens, and ink in the room, and there could not be the smallest occasion for leaving the parlour.
She could not very well avoid yielding to this request, which, however, she suspected strongly was only made in hopes of obtaining some information relative to the letter in question. Meanwhile, Robert, going up to Margaret, showed her the letter he held in his hand, and desired her to read it.
"Oh, how very good of you," cried Margaret, when she had run through the contents, "how kind of you to take it up so warmly; you who never believed that what I said was true; how glad I am that you have come round at last to believe my assertions; now, I trust, Tom will relent, and my blighted affections will once more revive and flourish!"
"Don't talk to me of blighted affections," replied her brother, impatiently; "don't bother me with such nonsense; do learn, if you can, to think of matters of business as business; and in an affair of this kind, try to speak in a rational, sensible way. Do you think Musgrove will yield to this representation?"