"I do not wonder that Sir William likes to have a pretty girl to stay with him," replied Tom, again staring at Emma, who coloured highly with indignation at his impertinence. "Ah! ha! how you blush," added he, coming close to her and attempting to pinch her cheek, which she, however, avoided. "Why, how monstrous coy you are," exclaimed he, "what! are you afraid of me?—fie, fie—you are my sister, and should have no naughty ideas in your head."
"I will trouble you, Tom, to leave my sister alone; I do not approve of your taking personal liberties with her; be so good as to treat her with the respect which is due to a relative of mine," exclaimed Margaret, half rising from her sofa to speak with greater energy.
"Ha! ha! so you are jealous Margery," said Tom, throwing himself on a seat beside Emma, and rolling about with laughter, "that's a good joke 'pon my soul—a capital joke, indeed—to be sure, considering all things—it's natural enough; but really, I cannot help laughing at it—indeed, I cannot, though I beg your pardon, Emma, for doing so."
Emma looked most immoveably grave, and would not give him the smallest encouragement in his hilarity, whilst Margaret muttered quite audibly:
"What a fool you do make of yourself, to be sure."
"So you are exhibiting your necklace box again," observed he, sarcastically, as he caught a glimpse of the case beside her. "Upon my honor, I do not believe there is another woman so vain of her trinkets between this and Berwick—you are always shewing them to every body."
"Well, and what if I am? I suppose I may if I like—it does nobody any harm that ever I heard of," retorted Margaret, quite angry. "I see no more wonder in a woman's shewing her jewels, than in a man exhibiting his horses, dogs, and guns. I have known instances of that peculiarity in some of my acquaintances, quite as well deserving of ridicule, as my sister's wishing to see my ornaments could be."
"I dare say, the horses and the dogs were much better worth looking at than your trumpery;" replied he, "why, the only things in your assortment worth any thing, are the topaz set which belonged to my mother; all the rest is mere rubbish."
"What those frightful old things! upon my honor, Tom, I am ashamed of wearing such monstrous, heavy, old-fashioned articles—but having once belonged to your mother, of course they must be wonderfully precious."
Emma here interposed to deliver Lady Gordon's message, and to request them to name a day for accepting it. A debate ensued as to the most convenient day on which to fix, which presently branched off into a violent dispute as to whether the invitation in question was intended as a compliment to Tom or his wife; each maintaining the opinion, that the honour of the invitation was all due to themselves.