“Why should not we talk it over before the young people?” said Mr. Percy. “We always speak of every thing openly in this family,” continued he, turning to Lady Jane; “and I think that is one reason why we live so happily together. I let my children know all my views for them, all my affairs, and my opinions, I may say all my thoughts, or how could I expect them to trust me with theirs?” “As to that, children are bound by gratitude to treat their parents with perfect openness,” said Lady Jane; “and it is the duty of children, you know, to make their parents their confidants upon all occasions.” “Duty and gratitude are excellent things,” said Mr. Percy, “but somewhat more is necessary between parent and child to produce friendship. Recollect the Duc d’Epernon’s reply to his king, who reproached him with want of affection. ‘Sire, you may command my services, my life; but your majesty knows, friendship is to be won only by friendship.’” “Very true,” said Lady Jane; “but friendship is not, properly speaking, the connexion that subsists between parents and children.” “I am sorry you think so,” said Mr. Percy, smiling: “pray do not teach my children that doctrine.” “Nay,” said Lady Jane, “no matter whether we call it friendship or not; I will answer for it, that without any refined notions about perfect openness and confidence, your children will be fond of you, if you are indulgent to them in certain points. Caroline, my dear,” said she, turning to Caroline, who was at the farthest end of the room, “don’t look so unconscious, for you are a party concerned; so come and kneel at the feet of this perverse father of yours, to plead your cause and mine--I must take you with me to Tunbridge. You must let me have her a summer and winter, and I will answer for Caroline’s success.” “What does your ladyship mean by my success?” said Caroline. “Why, child--Now don’t play your father’s philosophic airs upon me! We people who live in the world, and not with philosophers, are not prepared for such entrapping interrogatories. But come, I mean in plain English, my dear, though I am afraid it will shock your ears, that you will be” (speaking loud) “pretty well admired, pretty well abused, and--oh, shocking!--pretty well married.” “Pretty well married!” repeated Mrs. Percy, in a scornful tone: “but neither Caroline nor I should be satisfied unless she be very well married.” “Heyday! There is no knowing where to have you _lady_ philosophers. This morning you did not desire a coach and four for your daughters, not you; now you quarrel with me on the other side of the question. Really, for a lady of moderation, you are a little exorbitant. _Pretty well married_, you know, implies 2000_l._ a-year; and very well married, nothing under 10,000_l._” “Is that the language of the market? I did not understand the exact meaning of _very well married_--did you, Caroline? I own I expect something more than 10,000_l._ a-year.”