“I don’t know; but if they do, I believe he merits the epithet.” “Mercy, how shocking! and will she wear a white apron and make pies and puddings?” “I don’t know about the white apron, but I dare say she will make pies and puddings now and then; but that will be no great hardship, as she has done it before.” “And will she go about in a plain shawl, and a large straw bonnet, carrying tracts and bone soup to her husband’s poor parishioners?” “I’m not clear about that; but I dare say she will do her best to make them comfortable in body and mind, in accordance with our mother’s example.” CHAPTER IX. THE BALL “Now, Miss Grey,” exclaimed Miss Murray, immediately I entered the schoolroom, after having taken off my outdoor garments, upon returning from my four weeks’ recreation, “Now—shut the door, and sit down, and I’ll tell you all about the ball.” “No—damn it, no!” shouted Miss Matilda. “Hold your tongue, can’t ye? and let me tell her about my new mare—_such_ a splendour, Miss Grey! a fine blood mare—” “Do be quiet, Matilda; and let me tell my news first.” “No, no, Rosalie; you’ll be such a damned long time over it—she shall hear me first—I’ll be hanged if she doesn’t!” “I’m sorry to hear, Miss Matilda, that you’ve not got rid of that shocking habit yet.” “Well, I can’t help it: but I’ll never say a wicked word again, if you’ll only listen to me, and tell Rosalie to hold her confounded tongue.” Rosalie remonstrated, and I thought I should have been torn in pieces between them; but Miss Matilda having the loudest voice, her sister at length gave in, and suffered her to tell her story first: so I was doomed to hear a long account of her splendid mare, its breeding and pedigree, its paces, its action, its spirit, &c., and of her own amazing skill and courage in riding it; concluding with an assertion that she could clear a five-barred gate “like winking,” that papa said she might hunt the next time the hounds met, and mamma had ordered a bright scarlet hunting-habit for her. “Oh, Matilda! what stories you are telling!” exclaimed her sister. “Well,” answered she, no whit abashed, “I know I _could_ clear a five-barred gate, if I tried, and papa _will_ say I may hunt, and mamma _will_ order the habit when I ask it.” “Well, now get along,” replied Miss Murray; “and do, dear Matilda, try to be a little more lady-like. Miss Grey, I wish you would tell her not to use such shocking words; she will call her horse a mare: it is so inconceivably shocking! and then she uses such dreadful expressions in describing it: she must have learned it from the grooms. It nearly puts me into fits when she begins.” “I learned it from papa, you ass! and his jolly friends,” said the young lady, vigorously cracking a hunting-whip, which she habitually carried in her hand. “I’m as good judge of horseflesh as the best of ’m.”