At eleven o'clock, though an hour before the time appointed, while Cecilia was sitting in Lady Margaret's dressing room, “with sad civility and an aching head,” she was summoned to Mr Briggs in the parlour. He immediately began reproaching her with having eloped from him, in the summer, and with the various expences she had caused him from useless purchases and spoilt provisions. He then complained of Mr Delvile, whom he charged with defrauding him of his dues; but observing in the midst of his railing her dejection of countenance, he suddenly broke off, and looking at her with some concern, said, “what's the matter, Ducky? a'n't well? look as if you could not help it.” “O yes,” cried Cecilia, “I thank you, Sir, I am very well.” “What do you look so blank for, then?” said he, “bay? what are fretting for?--crossed in love?--lost your sweetheart?” “No, no, no,” cried she, with quickness. “Never mind, my chick, never mind,” said he, pinching her cheek, with resumed good humour, “more to be had; if one won't snap, another will; put me in a passion by going off from me with that old grandee, or would have got one long ago. Hate that old Don; used me very ill; wish I could trounce him. Thinks more of a fusty old parchment than the price of stocks. Fit for nothing but to be stuck upon an old monument for a Death's head.” He then told her that her accounts were all made out, and he was ready at any time to produce them; he approved much of her finishing wholly with the _old Don_, who had been a mere cypher in the executorship; but he advised her not to think of taking her money into her own hands, as he was willing to keep the charge of it himself till she was married. Cecilia, thanking him for the offer, said she meant now to make her acknowledgments for all the trouble he had already taken, but by no means purposed to give him any more. He debated the matter with her warmly, told her she had no chance to save herself from knaves and cheats, but by trusting to nobody but himself, and informing her what interest he had already made of her money, enquired how she would set about getting more? Cecilia, though prejudiced against him by Mr Monckton, knew not how to combat his arguments; yet conscious that scarce any part of the money to which he alluded was in fact her own, she could not yield to them. He was, however, so stubborn and so difficult to deal with, that she at length let him talk without troubling herself to answer, and privately determined to beg Mr Monckton would fight her battle. She was not, therefore, displeased by his interruption, though very much surprised by the sight of his person, when, in the midst of Mr Briggs's oratory, Mr Hobson entered the parlour. “I ask pardon, ma'am,” cried he, “if I intrude; but I made free to call upon the account of two ladies that are acquaintances of yours, that are quite, as one may say, at their wit's ends.” “What is the matter with them, Sir?”