MRS. HARD. A mere sprinkling, Tony, upon the flame, only to make it burn brighter. MISS NEV. Cousin Tony promises to give us more of his company at home. Indeed, he shan't leave us any more. It won't leave us, cousin Tony, will it? TONY. O! it's a pretty creature. No, I'd sooner leave my horse in a pound, than leave you, when you smile upon one so. Your laugh makes you so becoming. MISS NEV. Agreeable cousin! Who can help admiring that natural humour, that pleasant, broad, red, thoughtless, (_patting his cheek_) ah! it's a bold face. MRS. HARD. Pretty innocence! TONY. I'm sure I always loved cousin Con's hazel eyes, and her pretty long fingers, that she twists this way and that, over the haspicholls, like a parcel of bobbins. MRS. HARD. Ah, he would charm the bird from the tree. I was never so happy before. My boy takes after his father, poor Mr. Lumpkin, exactly. The jewels, my dear Con, shall be yours incontinently. You shall have them. Isn't he a sweet boy, my dear? You shall be married to-morrow, and we'll put off the rest of his education, like Mr. Drowsy's sermons, to a fitter opportunity. _Enter_ DIGGORY. DIGG. Where's the 'squire? I have got a letter for your worship. TONY. Give it to my mamma. She reads all my letters first. DIGG. I had orders to deliver it into your own hands. TONY. Who does it come from? DIGG. Your worship mun ask that o' the letter itself. TONY. I could wish to know, though (_turning the letter and gazing on it_). MISS NEV. (_Aside._) Undone, undone! A letter to him from Hastings. I know the hand. If my aunt sees it, we are ruined for ever. I'll keep her employed a little if I can. (_To_ MRS. HARDCASTLE.) But I have not told you, madam, of my cousin's smart answer just now to Mr. Marlow. We so laughed—You must know, madam—this way a little; for he must not hear us. _They confer._ TONY. (_Still gazing._) A damn'd cramp piece of penmanship, as ever I saw in my life. I can read your printhand very well. But here there are such handles, and shanks, and dashes, that one can scarce tell the head from the tail. _To Anthony Lumpkin, Esq._ It's very odd, I can read the outside of my letters, where my own name is, well enough. But when I come to open it, it is all—buzz. That's hard, very hard; for the inside of the letter is always the cream of the correspondence. MRS. HARD. Ha! ha! ha! Very well, very well. And so my son was too hard for the philosopher. MISS NEV. 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. HARD. 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 _S_; but whether the next be an _izzard_ or an _R_, confound me, I cannot tell. MRS. HARD. What's that, my dear. Can I give you any assistance?