“If you will forgive me for saying so, Lady Sundon,” Lady Bell gave her opinion, “you are in the wrong box. All the first people in town, ladies as well as gentlemen, are running to look at the medallions and vases. They were inspected by their majesties in person t’other day, and the Queen gave an order for ornaments to the chimney-pieces of her private rooms. I know my Mrs. Sundon would not forgive me if I returned to the country without having set eyes on these works. I don’t pretend to be very wise myself, but I hope I have no objection to improving my mind, and that I have sufficient patriotism to be proud of the growing manufactures of my country.” “Upon my word, Lady Bell, you put an old woman to shame,” exclaimed Lady Sundon, always ready to admire whatever Lady Bell said or did, and yet in earnest in her admiration. “Hear her! a young modish beauty evening herself to self-improvement and patriotism like any wizened bookworm. Have your way, child; I am sure it is a most creditable way, and I am glad Captain Fane has been so mindful as to put it in your power. But as I am a score and more of years too old for improving my mind or patronising my country, and my inclination ain’t in that line, I shall devote the morning to dancing attendance on my Sir Peter. It will help to keep the poor soul sweet, and gain me liberty for some more enticing occasion.” “I think we shall be able to get on without you, cousin.” “Get away with you, fellow. You don’t want a chaperon, Lady Bell, you yourself are the most charming chaperon in Lon’on; while poor Nancy and Lyddy there, that are nigh ten years older than you, never having had the luck to be married, can’t stir abroad without me jogging at their elbows; though, gracious me! my office is very much a sinecure so far as the men are concerned.” “Good heavens! Lady Sundon, how can you tell such stories about sister’s age and mine?” screamed Miss Lyddy. “As for men, if we were willing to grin and ogle—” she bit her tongue in time to prevent herself adding, “and to marry men older than our father—” “I don’t know that the grinning would do it, Lyddy,” observed the incorrigible Lady Sundon, shaking her head; “you haven’t teeth for grins, neither you nor Nancy, they’re too black. But what do you say, girls, about this morning’s doings? Is it to be ‘hey!’ for Lady Bell and cousin Harry, with their pots and mugs, or ‘hey!’ for a dosing and darning match at home.” “Gracious, madam,” interposed Miss Sundon peevishly, “how can you phrase it that we should cry ‘hey!’ for anything; though I am certain we are as fond of being instructed and entertained as Lady Bell or anybody.”