“Now really, Mr Meadows,” said she, “when you see any ladies in such distress, I wonder how you can forbear helping them.” “In distress, are you?” cried he, with a vacant smile, “pray, what's the matter?” “Don't you see? we are so crowded we can hardly sit.” “Can't you?” cried he, “upon my honour it's very shameful that these people don't contrive some seats more convenient.” “Yes,” said Mrs Mears; “but if you would be so kind as to let somebody else sit by you we should not want any contrivance.” Here Mr Meadows was seized with a furious fit of yawning, which as much diverted Cecilia and Mr Gosport, as it offended Mrs Mears, who with great displeasure added, “Indeed, Mr Meadows, it's very strange that you never hear what's said to you.” “I beg your pardon,” said he, “were you speaking to me?” and again began picking his teeth. Morrice, eager to contrast his civility with the inattention of Mr Meadows, now flew round to the other side of the table, and calling out “let _me_ help you, Miss Beverley, I can make tea better than anybody,” he lent over that part of the form which Mr Meadows had occupied with one of his feet, in order to pour it out himself: but Mr Meadows, by an unfortunate removal of his foot, bringing him forwarder than he was prepared to go, the tea pot and its contents were overturned immediately opposite to Cecilia. Young Delvile, who saw the impending evil, from an impetuous impulse to prevent her suffering by it, hastily drew her back, and bending down before her, secured her preservation by receiving himself the mischief with which she was threatened. Mrs Mears and Mrs Harrel vacated their seats in a moment, and Mr Gosport and Mr Arnott assisted in clearing the table, and removing Cecilia, who was very slightly hurt, and at once surprised, ashamed, and pleased at the manner in which she had been saved. Young Delvile, though a sufferer from his gallantry, the hot water having penetrated through his coat to his arm and shoulder, was at first insensible to his situation, from an apprehension that Cecilia had not wholly escaped; and his enquiries were so eager and so anxious, made with a look of such solicitude, and a voice of such alarm, that, equally astonished and gratified, she secretly blest the accident which had given birth to his uneasiness, however she grieved for its consequence to himself. But no sooner was he satisfied of her safety, than he felt himself obliged to retire; yet attributing to inconvenience what was really the effect of pain, he hurried away with an appearance of sport, saying, “There is something I must own, rather _unknightly_ in quitting the field for a wet jacket, but the company, I hope, will only give me credit for flying away to Ranelagh. So “Like a brave general after being beat, I'll exult and rejoice in a prudent retreat.” [Footnote: Smart]