“I cannot imagine what I can have done or said to make you dislike me so much. I have never said anything to you but for your good. But young people now-a-days think themselves so prodigiously wise, that they will not condescend to be advised. I know that when I was a young woman, if any one had taken so much pains with me as I have with you, I should have been grateful for it, instead of turning my back upon my best friends.” All this was what is called too bad. It was villanously tedious and generally untrue. Lady Aimwell could very well imagine what it was rendered her company unacceptable to Miss Glossop; nor could her ladyship think it very likely that all which she had been pleased to say for the good of the young lady, should be considered by her as really pleasant and agreeable. And in good truth we really believe that, though what had been said by Lady Aimwell might, by a little ingenuity, be interpreted as being said for the young lady’s good, yet the principal motive which urged her ladyship to say all this, was the gratification of her own ill humour and the indulgence of her own spleen. And when the wife of the exemplary magistrate of Neverden Hall said, that had any one in her younger days so administered the tediousness of snarling exhortation, she should have been grateful for it, we are of opinion that imagination had usurped the throne of memory, or that invention had taken the place of veracity. For, unless Lady Aimwell had greatly changed since the days of her youth, or unless we have grossly misapprehended the character of her mind, we are of opinion that she would not have borne so patiently, as Miss Glossop did, the tediousness of prosy exhortation. To all that Lady Aimwell was pleased to remark as touching the ingratitude of Miss Glossop and the degeneracy of the present generation of juvenile spinsters, the belectured young lady only replied, and that most meekly, “I am sure, Lady Aimwell, I never had the slightest intention of treating you disrespectfully. As you were unwell last night, and as I thought you did not seem quite recovered this morning, I could not do otherwise than enquire after your health.” “Not quite recovered!” echoed Lady Aimwell, with great briskness of tone and peculiar sharpness of manner--“Not quite recovered! So, I suppose you mean to insinuate that I was out of humour? Yes, yes, I understand what you mean by not quite recovered.”