“Indeed! indeed! but she would,” cried Marianne, eagerly: “and a great deal more exactly, for mamma has taught her to weigh and measure things very carefully: and when I was ill she always weighed the bark in nicely, and dropped my drops so carefully: better than the cook. When mamma took me down to see the cook make a cake once, I saw her spoonfuls, and her ounces, and her handfuls: she dashed and splashed without minding exactness or the recipe, or anything. I’m sure Sophy would make a much better pudding, if exactness only were wanting.” “Well, granting that she could make the best pudding in the whole world, what does that signify? I say she never would: so it comes to the same thing.” “Never would! how can you tell that, brother?” “Why, now look at her, with her books, and her drawings, and all this apparatus. Do you think she would ever jump up, with all her nicety, too, and put by all these things, to go down into the greasy kitchen, and plump up to the elbows in suet, like a cook, for a plum-pudding?” “I need not plump up to the elbows, brother,” said Sophy, smiling: “nor is it necessary that I should be a cook: but, if it were necessary, I hope I should be able to make a pudding.” “Yes, yes,” cried Marianne, warmly; “and she would jump up, and put by all her things in a minute if it were necessary, and run down stairs and up again like lightning, or do anything that was ever so disagreeable to her, even about the suet, with all her nicety, brother, I assure you, as she used to do anything, everything for me, when I was ill last winter. Oh, brother, she can do anything; and she could make the best plum-pudding in the whole world, I’m sure, in a minute, if it were necessary.” CHAPTER II. A KNOCK at the door, from Mrs. Theresa Tattle’s servant, recalled Marianne to the business of the day. “There,” said Frederick, “we have sent no answer all this time. It’s necessary to think of that in a minute.” The servant came with his mistress’ compliments, to let the young ladies and Mr. Frederick know that she was waiting tea for them. “Waiting! then we must go,” said Frederick. The servant opened the door wider, to let him pass, and Marianne thought she must follow her brother: so they went downstairs together, while Sophy gave her own message to the servant, and quietly stayed at her usual occupations. Mrs. Tattle was seated at her tea-table, with a large plate of macaroons beside her when Frederick and Marianne entered. She was “delighted” they were come, and “grieved” not to see Miss Sophy along with them. Marianne coloured a little; for though she had precipitately followed her brother, and though he had quieted her conscience for a moment by saying “You know papa and mamma told us to do what we thought best,” yet she did not feel quite pleased with herself: and it was not till after Mrs. Theresa had exhausted all her compliments, and half her macaroons, that she could restore her spirits to their usual height.