"Certainly," answered Lady Binks; "but the poorer class have often to struggle with poverty and dependence. In general society, they are like commercial people in presence of their customers; and that is a difficult part to sustain. And so you see them of all sorts--shy and reserved, when they are conscious of merit--petulant and whimsical, by way of showing their independence--intrusive, in order to appear easy--and sometimes obsequious and fawning, when they chance to be of a mean spirit. But you seldom see them quite at their ease, and therefore I hold this Mr. Tyrrel to be either an artist of the first class, raised completely above the necessity and degradation of patronage, or else to be no professional artist at all." Lady Penelope looked at Lady Binks with much such a regard as Balaam may have cast upon his ass, when he discovered the animal's capacity for holding an argument with him. She muttered to herself-- _"Mon ane parle, et meme il parle bien!"_ But, declining the altercation which Lady Binks seemed disposed to enter into, she replied, with good-humour, "Well, dearest Rachel, we will not pull caps about this man--nay, I think your good opinion of him gives him new value in my eyes. That is always the way with us, my good friend! We may confess it, when there are none of these conceited male wretches among us. We will know what he really is--he shall not wear fern-seed, and walk among us invisible thus--what say you, Maria?" "Indeed, I say, dear Lady Penelope," answered Miss Digges, whose ready chatter we have already introduced to the reader, "he is a very handsome man, though his nose is too big, and his mouth too wide--but his teeth are like pearl--and he has such eyes!--especially when your ladyship spoke to him. I don't think you looked at his eyes--they are quite deep and dark, and full of glow, like what you read to us in the letter from that lady, about Robert Burns." "Upon my word, miss, you come on finely!" said Lady Penelope.--"One had need take care what they read or talk about before you, I see--Come, Jones, have mercy upon us--put an end to that symphony of tinkling cups and saucers, and let the first act of the tea-table begin, if you please." "Does her leddyship mean the grace?" said honest Mrs. Blower, for the first time admitted into this worshipful society, and busily employed in arranging an Indian handkerchief, that might have made a mainsail for one of her husband's smuggling luggers, which she spread carefully on her knee, to prevent damage to a flowered black silk gown from the repast of tea and cake, to which she proposed to do due honour--"Does her leddyship mean the grace? I see the minister is just coming in.--Her leddyship waits till ye say a blessing, an ye please, sir."