She imagined the satisfaction with which she should spread before him her newly acquired riches,--the pleasure with which she would listen to his praises of her diligence;--above all, her fancy dwelt on the delight which she should feel in relieving her father from the pecuniary embarrassment, in which she knew him to be involved by a residence in London so much longer than he had been prepared to expect. That she might add to her intended gift the pleasure of surprize, she was resolved not to mention her plan for to-morrow; and with such subjects in contemplation, how could she rest,--of what other subject could she speak? She tried to banish it from her mind, that she might not be wholly unentertaining to her father, who, on her account, usually spent his evenings at home. But the task of amusing was so laborious, that she was glad to receive in it even the humble assistance of Miss Julia Dawkins. This young lady had thought it incumbent on her to assault our heroine with a most violent friendship; a sentiment which often made her sufficiently impertinent, though it was a little kept in check by the calm good sense and natural reserve of Laura. The preposterous affectation of Julia sometimes provoked the smiles, but more frequently the pity of Laura; for her real good nature could find no pleasure in seeing human beings make themselves ridiculous, and she applied to the cure of Miss Dawkins's foibles, the ingenuity which many would have employed to extract amusement from them. She soon found, however, that she was combating a sort of Hydra, from which, if she succeeded in lopping off one excrescence, another was instantly ready to sprout. Having no character of her own, Julia was always, as nearly as she was able, the heroine whom the last read novel inclined her to personate. But as those who forsake the guidance of nature are in imminent danger of absurdity, her copies were always caricatures. After reading Evelina, she sat with her mouth extended in a perpetual smile, and was so very timid, that she would not for the world have looked at a stranger. When Camilla was the model for the day, she became insufferably rattling, infantine, and thoughtless. After perusing the Gossip's story, she, in imitation of the rational Louisa, suddenly waxed very wise--spoke in sentences--despised romances--sewed shifts--and read sermons. But, in the midst of this fit, she, in an evil hour, opened a volume of the Nouvelle Eloise, which had before disturbed many wiser heads. The shifts were left unfinished, the sermons thrown aside, and Miss Julia returned with renewed _impetus_ to the sentimental. This afternoon her studies had changed their direction, as Laura instantly guessed by the lively air with which she entered the room, saying that she had brought her netting, and would sit with her for an hour. 'But do, my dear,' added she, 'first shew me the picture you have been so busy with; Mamma says it is beautiful, for she peeped in at it the other day.'