MISS FOSTER. My dear Barbara, you too frequently forget yourself. A young woman in your position must beware of levity. BARBARA. Madam, I know it; but la, what are you to make of me? Look at the time and trouble dear Miss Dorothy was always taking--she that trained up everybody--and see what's come of it: Barbara Ridley I was, and Barbara Ridley I am; and I don't do with fashionable ways--I can't do with them; and indeed, Miss Evelina, I do sometimes wish we were all back again on Edenside, and Mr. Anthony a boy again, and dear Miss Dorothy her old self, galloping the bay mare along the moor, and taking care of all of us as if she was our mother, bless her heart! MISS FOSTER. Miss Dorothy herself, child? Well, now you mention it, Tunbridge of late has scarcely seemed to suit her constitution. She falls away, has not a word to throw at a dog, and is ridiculously pale. Well, now Mr. Austin has returned, after six months of infidelity, to the dear Wells, we shall all, I hope, be brightened up. Has the mail come? BARBARA. That it has, madam, and the sight of Mr. Menteith put it clean out of my head. (_With letters._) Four for you, Miss Evelina, two for me, and only one for Miss Dorothy. Miss Dorothy seems quite neglected, does she not? Six months ago, it was a different story. MISS FOSTER. Well, and that's true, Barbara, and I had not remarked it. I must take her seriously to task. No young lady in her position should neglect her correspondence. (_Opening a letter._) Here's from that dear ridiculous boy, the Cornet, announcing his arrival for to-day. BARBARA. O madam, will he come in his red coat? MISS FOSTER. I could not conceive him missing such a chance. Youth, child, is always vain, and Mr. Anthony is unusually young. BARBARA. La, madam, he can't help that. MISS FOSTER. My child, I am not so sure. Mr. Anthony is a great concern to me. He was orphaned, to be sure, at ten years old; and ever since he has been only as it were his sister's son. Dorothy did everything for him: more indeed than I thought quite ladylike, but I suppose I begin to be old-fashioned. See how she worked and slaved--yes, slaved!--for him: teaching him herself, with what pains and patience she only could reveal, and learning that she might be able; and see what he is now: a gentleman, of course, but, to be frank, a very commonplace one: not what I had hoped of Dorothy's brother; not what I had dreamed of the heir of two families--Musgrave and Foster, child! Well, he may now meet Mr. Austin. He requires a Mr. Austin to embellish and correct his manners. (_Opening another letter._) Why, Barbara, Mr. John Scrope and Miss Kate Dacre are to be married! BARBARA. La, madam, how nice! MISS FOSTER. They are: as I'm a sinful woman. And when will you be married, Barbara? and when dear Dorothy? I hate to see old maids a-making. BARBARA. La, Miss Evelina, there's no harm in an old maid.