“Doing!--Oh, nothing,” said Miss Hunter: “he’s never doing any thing, you know; and as to listening, he was so far off he could not hear a word we said: besides, he is such a simple creature, and loves you so!” “I don’t know,” said Mrs. Beaumont; “he either did not play me fair, or else he did a job I employed him in this morning so awkwardly, that I never wish to employ him again. He is but a _low_ kind of person, after all; I’ll get rid of him: that sort of people always grow tiresome and troublesome after a time, and one must shake them off. But I have not leisure to think of him now--Well, my dear, to go on with what I was saying to you.” Mrs. Beaumont went on talking of her friendship for Sir John Hunter, and of the difficulty of appeasing him; but observing that Miss Hunter listened only with forced attention, she paused to consider what this could mean. Habitually suspicious, like all insincere people, Mrs. Beaumont now began to imagine that there was some plot carrying on against her by Sir John Hunter and Lightbody, and that Miss Hunter was made use of against her. Having a most contemptible opinion of her Albina’s understanding, and knowing that her young friend had too little capacity to be able to deceive her, or to invent a plausible excuse impromptu, Mrs. Beaumont turned quick, and exclaimed, “My dear, what could Lightbody be saying to you when I came up?--for I remember he stopped short, and you both looked so guilty.” “Guilty! did I?--Did he?--Dearest Mrs. Beaumont, don’t look at me so with your piercing eyes!--Oh! I vow and protest I can’t tell you; I won’t tell you.” The young lady tittered, and twisted herself into various affected attitudes; then kissing Mrs. Beaumont, and then turning her back with childish playfulness, she cried, “No, I won’t tell you; never, never, never!” “Come, come, my dear, don’t trifle; I have really business to do, and am in a hurry.” “Well, don’t look at me--never look at me again--promise me that, and I’ll tell you. Poor Lightbody--Oh, you’re looking at me!--Poor Lightbody was talking to me of _somebody_, and he laid me a wager--but I can’t tell you that--Ah, don’t be angry with me, and I will tell, if you’ll turn your head quite away!--that I should be married to _somebody_ before the end of this year. Oh, now, don’t look at me, dearest, dearest Mrs. Beaumont.”