“This would doubtless be a great improvement,” said Mr. Percival; “but you would not overturn society to attain it, would you? Should we find things much improved by tearing away what has been called the decent drapery of life?” “Drapery, if you ask me my opinion,” cried Mrs. Freke, “drapery, whether wet or dry, is the most confoundedly indecent thing in the world.” “That depends on _public_ opinion, I allow,” said Mr. Percival. “The Lacedaemonian ladies, who were veiled only by public opinion, were better covered from profane eyes than some English ladies are in wet drapery.” “I know nothing of the Lacedaemonian ladies: I took my leave of them when I was a schoolboy--girl, I should say. But pray, what o’clock is it by you? I’ve sat till I’m cramped all over,” cried Mrs. Freke, getting up and stretching herself so violently that some part of her habiliments gave way. “Honi soit qui mal y pense!” said she, bursting into a horse laugh. Without sharing in any degree that confusion which Belinda felt for her, she strode out of the room, saying, “Miss Portman, you understand these things better than I do; come and set me to rights.” When she was in Belinda’s room, she threw herself into an arm-chair, and laughed immoderately. “How I have trimmed Percival this morning!” said she. “I am glad you think so,” said Belinda; “for I really was afraid he had been too severe upon you.” “I only wish,” continued Mrs. Freke, “I only wish his wife had been by. Why the devil did not she make her appearance? I suppose the prude was afraid of my demolishing and unrigging her.” “There seems to have been more danger of that for you than for any body else,” said Belinda, as she assisted to set Mrs. Freke’s rigging, as she called it, to rights. “I do of all things delight in hauling good people’s opinions out of their musty drawers, and seeing how they look when they’re all pulled to pieces before their faces! Pray, are those Lady Anne’s drawers or yours?” said Mrs. Freke, pointing to a chest of drawers. “Mine.” “I’m sorry for it; for if they were hers, to punish her for _shirking_ me, by the Lord, I’d have every rag she has in the world out in the middle of the floor in ten minutes! You don’t know me--I’m a terrible person when provoked--stop at nothing!” As Mrs. Freke saw no other chance left of gaining her point with Belinda, she tried what intimidating her would do. “I stop at nothing,” repeated she, fixing her eyes upon Miss Portman, to fascinate her by terror. “Friend or foe! peace or war! Take your choice. Come to the ball at Harrowgate, I win my bet, and I’m your sworn friend. Stay away, I lose my bet, and am your sworn enemy.” “It is not in my power, madam,” said Belinda, calmly, “to comply with your request.” “Then you’ll take the consequences,” cried Mrs. Freke. She rushed past her, hurried down stairs, and called out, “Bid my blockhead bring my unicorn.” She, her unicorn, and her blockhead, were out of sight in a few minutes.