"Had my _Husband_ not been a Virtuoso, _Madam_," says my _Mother_, quietly looking up from making an _Hippocrates'_ sleeve for our Jelly, "these Girls had never needed to keep a Bun-House." Which indeed, was true enough, for my _Father_, who had been apprenticed to the first Jeweller in _London_, might have commanded a flourishing Business, and accumulated a Fortune, but for his unhappy Taste for Articles of Virtu, which led him into connection with unprincipled Men of Quality, who ran in his Debt, and would have run him through if he had dunned 'em; and that again led to his drowning Trouble in Intemperance. So that, had not a Legacy, opportunely left to my dear _Mother_ for her sole and separate use, enabled her to purchase our present House and Business, for _Prudence_ and me, 'twould have fared ill with her and with us, and with my poor _Father_ too. And hitherto, we had gone on so steadily and respectably, that we had given general Satisfaction, and notwithstanding our unprotected State (for my poor _Father_ was almost worse than no Protection,) had kept good Names, and met with no Let nor Hindrance. Lady _Betty_, without vouchsafing more than a Stare at the Speaker of the Words just addressed to her, turns her Head slowly round towards me, and with more Haughtiness than I can describe, "Prithee, Mrs. _Patty_," says she, "is that good Woman your _Mother_?" Now certainly, to be a good Woman is the chief Merit of our Sex; and to have it acknowledged that one whom we dearly love and reverence is such, ought to be taken as a compliment, rather than the other way: but yet I knew full well that Lady _Betty_ had not used this term respectfully and kindly, but quite the reverse; wherefore I replied, "Yes, _Madam_," very bluntly. "How are the Men amusing themselves?" says she to Lady _Grace_, who was looking out of the Window. "Mr. _Caryl_ seems reading them a copy of Verses which diverts them hugely," said Lady _Grace_. "Odious Creature!" cried Lady _Betty_, forgetting all her Languor, and fanning herself vehemently, "A Man of Letters is the very worst possible Ingredient in a Party of Pleasure; he thinks of Nothing but shewing himself off. I'll never invite another to a Folly. Sure 'tis Time for us now to think of returning." "Were we not to wait for the Moon?" says Lady _Grace_. "If you particularly wish it, we will do so," says Lady _Betty_, "but I really believe the evening Air on the Water will kill me." "Oh, then the Moon will be too expensive a luxury," says Lady _Grace_, "let us return at once by all means." And the Black Boy was instantly sent to prepare the Gentlemen for the reembarkation. "Give me my Cardinal, Child," says Lady _Betty_ to _Gatty_. "Why, what on Earth is the matter with your Hands? They are covered with a Rash. Your Face, too, is as red as this Velvet. Huh! don't come near me! Stay, let me rush into the open Air. You are sickening with some infectious Complaint."