She was a tight-made little lady--nor young, nor old--without a cap (_though it would be only manners to ask after it_) mighty tight, and terrible active--spinning round like a top, and darting off like a swallow; her head looked like a pretty tiger’s--fierce and keen: she seemed ready to pounce on any thing--living or dead; no creature could be easy, or quiet, or comfortable, or contented in the same room with her. I saw that in a minute, and thought she’d be the death of my poor lady. As soon as she saw her and the master standing the way I told you of, sure enough she sprung on her: you would have thought they had lain in the same cradle, to see the delight of her: she pulled up her veil, and kissed her on both cheeks. “You dear creature!” she exclaimed. “Now, I know I shall have your sympathy--your help--your experience. Now, don’t interrupt me, Cousin Francis (the poor gentleman was looking dull and stupid) don’t interrupt me--don’t tell me of difficulty,” she said. “I should think no one in the county has forgotten how triumphantly I carried the question of the _green pinafores_ in the very _teeth_ of the rector and the churchwardens: the children wear them to this very day. I’ll organize an opposition such as no power can withstand. I’ll neither give nor take rest;” (I believed that,) “and if Lady Lockington’s candidate should be returned, in violation of every constitutional right, I’ll petition the house.” She waved her hand round like the sails of a wind-mill. I never saw a prettier little hand, nor one that had a more resolute way with it.