MISS NEVILLE. Yes, madam; but you must hear the rest, madam. A little more this way, or he may hear us. You’ll hear how he puzzled him again.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. He seems strangely puzzled now himself, methinks.
TONY. (Still gazing.) A damned up and down hand, as if it was disguised in liquor.—(Reading.) Dear Sir,—ay, that’s that. Then there’s an M, and a T, and an S, but whether the next be an izzard, or an R, confound me, I cannot tell.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. What’s that, my dear? Can I give you any assistance?
MISS NEVILLE. Pray, aunt, let me read it. Nobody reads a cramp hand better than I. (Twitching the letter from him.) Do you know who it is from?
TONY. Can’t tell, except from Dick Ginger, the feeder.
MISS NEVILLE. Ay, so it is. (Pretending to read.) Dear ’Squire, hoping that you’re in health, as I am at this present. The gentlemen of the Shake-bag club has cut the gentlemen of Goose-green quite out of feather. The odds—um—odd battle—um—long fighting—um—here, here, it’s all about cocks and fighting; it’s of no consequence; here, put it up, put it up. (Thrusting the crumpled letter upon him.)
TONY. But I tell you, miss, it’s of all the consequence in the world. I would not lose the rest of it for a guinea. Here, mother, do you make it out. Of no consequence! (Giving MRS. HARDCASTLE the letter.)
MRS. HARDCASTLE. How’s this?—(Reads.) “Dear ’Squire, I’m now waiting for Miss Neville, with a post-chaise and pair, at the bottom of the garden, but I find my horses yet unable to perform the journey. I expect you’ll assist us with a pair of fresh horses, as you promised. Dispatch is necessary, as the HAG (ay, the hag), your mother, will otherwise suspect us! Yours, Hastings.” Grant me patience. I shall run distracted! My rage chokes me.
MISS NEVILLE. I hope, madam, you’ll suspend your resentment for a few moments, and not impute to me any impertinence, or sinister design, that belongs to another.