“Pho, pho,” interrupted Lady Honoria, “but I don't mean such hum-drum companions as those; you'll tell me next, I suppose, of the parson and his wife and three daughters, with all their cousins and aunts; I hate those sort of people. What I desire to hear of is, who are your particular favourites; and whether you take long walks here, as you used to do at the Castle, and who you have to accompany you?” And then, looking at her very archly, she added, “A pretty little dog, now, I should think, would be vastly agreeable in such a place as this.--Ah, Miss Beverley! you have not left off that trick of colouring, I see!” “If I colour now,” said Cecilia, fully convinced of the justness of her suspicions, “I think it must be for your ladyship, not myself; for, if I am not much mistaken, either in person, or by proxy, a blush from Lady Honoria Pemberton would not, just now, be wholly out of season.” “Lord,” cried she, “how like that is to a speech of Mrs Delvile's! She has taught you exactly her manner of talking. But do you know I am informed you have got Fidel with you here? O fie, Miss Beverley! What will papa and mamma say, when they find you have taken away poor little master's plaything?” “And O fie, Lady Honoria! what shall I say, when I find you guilty of this mischievous frolic! I must beg, however, since you have gone thus far, that you will proceed a little farther, and send back the dog to the person from whom you received him.” “No, not I! manage him all your own way; if you chuse to accept dogs from gentlemen, you know, it is your affair, and not mine.” “If you really will not return him yourself, you must at least pardon me should you hear that I do in your ladyship's name.” Lady Honoria for some time only laughed and rallied, without coming to any explanation; but when she had exhausted all the sport she could make, she frankly owned that she had herself ordered the dog to be privately stolen, and then sent a man with him to Mrs Charlton's. “But you know,” she continued, “I really owed you a spite for being so ill-natured as to run away after sending me to call Mortimer to comfort and take leave of you.” “Do you dream, Lady Honoria? when did I send you?” “Why you know you looked as if you wished it, and that was the same thing. But really it made me appear excessively silly, when I had forced him to come back with me, and told him you were waiting for him,--to see nothing of you at all, and not be able to find or trace you. He took it all for my own invention.” “And was it not your own invention?” “Why that's nothing to the purpose; I wanted him to believe you sent me, for I knew else he would not come.” “Your ladyship was a great deal too good!”