Oh! what awful Work it is, when Sisters are jealous of one another! The nearer the Heart, the greater the Smart. The closer the Kin, the greater the Sin. My Heart was in that State, that the least Injury, real or supposed, made me ready to cry out; and yet I must look out jealously for new Injuries, as if I had not enough already. As for _Prue_, she was in a most unpleasant Humour, snappish and reckless, or merry and unfeeling: laughing twice as much as there was Need, at the merest Trifle; or requiring to be spoke to twice before she heard or made Answer. There was no Confidence between us now; and if she had made any Approach to it, I should have started away from it. I was glad when she was going about, Sightseeing, with _Tom_; for, as she truly said, she was so soon to have all the Work to do, that she might as well take her Pleasure while she could: only it was not spoken kindly. As for _Tom_, he had been Home and back again: he had taken down his Monkey to his Mother, but had soon got tired, I fancy, of country Quiet, (which, he said, was as dull as a Roari-torio,) so made an Excuse to run up to Town again on some sea-faring Business. However, he had only left Home for a few Days, and meant to return to it as soon as he had squired me to the _Old Angel_; though I told him I had not the least Need of his Protection, and wanted Nobody but _Peter_ to go with me. He would not have it so; but got up some Hours before Light, brisk as a Lark, to see me off, like a good-tempered Fellow as he was. He talked all Sorts of Rhodomontade by the Way, that amused me in spite of myself; and, just as we got to the Inn-yard, asked me how often I thought he had been in Love. "Never once," said I. "Then, there you're quite out," said he, "for I've been in Love four Times." Here a Man ran against him with a _Box_. "You might have put out my Eye," says _Tom_ to him; "however, as you didn't, it's no Matter." Here we got to the Booking-office, and waited there while the dirty old Coach was being washed. "Four Times," repeated _Tom_, returning to his Subject, "and I'll tell you who with." "Oh no," said I, "pray spare me!" "You don't guess the Name of the last, then," says he with a roguish Air. "_Patty Honeywood_," doubtless, said I. "You're not so far out, then," says he, bursting out laughing. "Hush, _Tom_! People will hear you...." "Well, and what if they do?" "Why, I shan't put much Faith in your Passion, if you talk and laugh so openly about it." "Ah," says he, "perhaps I may feel as much as Fellows that are more affected."