“Oh! by God’s mercy, very little. As for me, I shall get over it in three or four years I don’t doubt—that’s if I can get ass’s milk and change of air.” “We’ll take you to Barchester for that. But as I was saying, I really do think Lord Lufton likes Griselda Grantly.” “Then I really do think that he has uncommon bad taste,” said Lucy, with a reality in her voice differing much from the tone of banter she had hitherto used. “What, Lucy!” said her sister-in-law, looking at her. “Then I fear we shall really want the ass’s milk.” “Perhaps, considering my position, I ought to know nothing of Lord Lufton, for you say that it is very dangerous for young ladies to know young gentlemen. But I do know enough of him to understand that he ought not to like such a girl as Griselda Grantly. He ought to know that she is a mere automaton, cold, lifeless, spiritless, and even vapid. There is, I believe, nothing in her mentally, whatever may be her moral excellences. To me she is more absolutely like a statue than any other human being I ever saw. To sit still and be admired is all that she desires; and if she cannot get that, to sit still and not be admired would almost suffice for her. I do not worship Lady Lufton as you do; but I think quite well enough of her to wonder that she should choose such a girl as that for her son’s wife. That she does wish it, I do not doubt. But I shall indeed be surprised if he wishes it also.” And then as she finished her speech, Lucy again flogged the pony. This she did in vexation, because she felt that the tell-tale blood had suffused her face. “Why, Lucy, if he were your brother you could not be more eager about it.” “No, I could not. He is the only man friend with whom I was ever intimate, and I cannot bear to think that he should throw himself away. It’s horridly improper to care about such a thing, I have no doubt.” “I think we might acknowledge that if he and his mother are both satisfied, we may be satisfied also.” “I shall not be satisfied. It’s no use your looking at me, Fanny. You will make me talk of it, and I won’t tell a lie on the subject. I do like Lord Lufton very much; and I do dislike Griselda Grantly almost as much. Therefore I shall not be satisfied if they become man and wife. However, I do not suppose that either of them will ask my consent; nor is it probable that Lady Lufton will do so.” And then they went on for perhaps a quarter of a mile without speaking. “Poor Puck!” at last Lucy said. “He shan’t be whipped any more, shall he, because Miss Grantly looks like a statue? And, Fanny, don’t tell Mark to put me into a lunatic asylum. I also know a hawk from a heron, and that’s why I don’t like to see such a very unfitting marriage.” There was then nothing more said on the subject, and in two minutes they arrived at the house of the Hogglestock clergyman.