"Nay, I will tell Lady St. Aubyn, she looks all softness and sensibility: but you are so wicked, you make a jest of every thing. Do you know, my dearest Lady St. Aubyn, just as poor Mrs. Dawkins was coming to make you a visit, this morning, nay, she was actually dressed, and had one foot on the step of the carriage, _I_ was in it, for she was so kind as to say she would bring me; so I thought, as I was to come with her, I need not put on a pelisse, or shawl, for you know they spoil one's dress. But I can't say but that it was rather cold walking, as I was at last obliged to do, for _just_ as she put her foot upon the step----" "What happened?" interrupted St. Aubyn, laughing still more at the emphatic manner in which poor Alton told her distressing story.--"Did she fall down and break her leg, or did the horses run away and carry off her kid slipper?"----"Now only hear him; did you ever see such a teasing creature: well, I am glad _I_ have not the task of keeping you in order; I don't know what even the sweet Countess will do with you." This piece of self-congratulation threw St. Aubyn into a violent fit of laughing, in which even the grave Doctor Montague joined, and Ellen could hardly resist, though the fear of quite affronting her guest put a check upon her risibility. "Well," said St. Aubyn, at last recovering himself a little, "but what really did happen to poor Mrs. Dawkins?" "Nay, I protest I won't tell you, you wicked creature; I will tell Lady St. Aubyn some other time, for you do not deserve to hear any thing about it." "Oh, yes, do, my dear Alton, tell, for really I am in great pain for poor Mrs. Dawkins, who has been standing so long with one foot upon the step: don't leave her in so dangerous a situation any longer."----"Well, then, if I must tell--at that moment up came a servant on horseback, to say her sister, Mrs. Courtenay, was on the road to her own house, in her way from Buxton, and would, with a whole train of children and servants, dine at her house to-day; and as they were coming directly, she was actually obliged to defer her visit to your Ladyship till to-morrow; and she was so sorry, and I am sure so was I, for I was obliged to walk here after all." "Well, but," said Lord St. Aubyn, "notwithstanding this terrible shock to her feelings, she might have sent the carriage with _you_."----"Aye, so she might, to be sure; but poor dear soul, she was put in such a bustle she never thought of it; some people don't think----dear me, if I had a carriage of my own, I should be happy to make it useful to my friends, and not let them go broiling on foot two or three miles in warm weather or splashing through the mud in the middle of winter."----"I believe you," said St. Aubyn; for with all her foibles, he knew Miss Alton was really good-natured, and willing to do a kind action.