Having constrained herself to hear thus much, Juliet conceived that the duty even of her humble station could require no more; she made, therefore, a slight reverence, with intention to withdraw. But Mrs Ireton, offended, cried, 'Whither may you be going, Ma'am?--And pray, Ma'am,--if I may take the liberty to ask such a question,--who told you to go?--Was it I?--Did any body hear me?--Did you, Lady Arramede?--or you, Miss Brinville?--or only Miss Ellis herself? For, to be sure I must have done it: I take that for granted: she would not, certainly, think of going without leave, after I have sent for her. So I make no doubt but I did it. Though I can't think how it happened, I own. 'Twas perfectly without knowing it, I confess. In some fit of absence--perhaps in my sleep;--for I have slept, too, perhaps, without knowing it!' Sarcasms so witty, uttered by a lady at an assembly in her own house, could not fail of being received with applause; and Mrs Ireton, looking around her triumphantly, regarded the disconcerted Juliet as a completely vanquished vassal. In a tone, therefore, that marked the most perfect self-satisfaction, 'Pray, Ma'am,' she continued, 'for what might you suppose I did myself the favour to want you? was it only to take a view of your new _costume_? 'Tis very careless and picturesque, to be sure, to rove abroad in that agreeable dishabille, just like the "maiden all forlorn;" or rather to speak with mere exactitude, like the "man all tattered and torn," for 'tis more properly his _costume_ you adopt, than the neat, tidy maiden's.' The warm-hearted young Lady Barbara, all pity and feeling for Juliet, here broke from her quiet and cautious aunt, and, with irrepressible eagerness, exclaimed, 'Mrs Ireton, 'twas Mr Loddard, your own little naughty nephew, who deranged in that manner the dress of that elegant Miss Ellis.' The Miss Crawleys, now, running to the little boy, called out, 'The Loddard! the Loddard! 'tis the Loddard has set up the new _costume_!' Mrs Ireton, though affecting to laugh, had now done with the subject; and, while she was taking a pinch of snuff, to gain time to suggest some other, Sir Jaspar Herrington, advancing to Juliet, said, 'Has this young lady no place?' and, gallantly taking her hand, he led her to his own chair, and walked to another part of the room. A civility such as this from Sir Jaspar, made all the elders of the company stare, and all the younger titter; but the person the most surprized was Mrs Ireton, who hastily called out, 'Miss Ellis would not do such a thing! Take Sir Jaspar's own seat! That has his own particular cushions! She could not do such a thing! I should think not, at least! I may judge ill, but I should think not. A seat prepared for Sir Jaspar by my own order! Miss Ellis can dispense with having an easy chair, and three cushions, I should presume! I may be wrong, to be sure, but I should presume so!'