MISS FOSTER. My dear, there are moments when you positively amaze me. (Barbara, some _pate_, if you please!) I beg you not to be a prude. All women, of course, are virtuous; but a prude is something I regard with abhorrence. The Cornet is seeing life, which is exactly what he wanted. You brought him up surprisingly well; I have always admired you for it; but let us admit--as women of the world, my dear--it was no upbringing for a man. You and that fine solemn fellow, John Fenwick, led a life that was positively no better than the Middle Ages; and between the two of you poor Anthony (who, I am sure, was a most passive creature!) was so packed with principle and admonition that I vow and declare he reminded me of Issachar stooping between his two burdens. It was high time for him to be done with your apron-string, my dear: he has all his wild oats to sow; and that is an occupation which it is unwise to defer too long. By the bye, have you heard the news? The Duke of York has done us a service for which I was unprepared. (More tea, Barbara!) George Austin, bringing the prince in his train, is with us once more. DOROTHY. I knew he was coming. MISS FOSTER. You knew, child? and did not tell? You are a public criminal. DOROTHY. I did not think it mattered, Aunt Evelina. MISS FOSTER. O do not make-believe. I am in love with him myself, and have been any time since Nelson and the Nile. As for you, Dolly, since he went away six months ago, you have been positively in the megrims. I shall date your loss of appetite from George Austin's vanishing. No, my dear, our family require entertainment: we must have wit about us, and beauty, and the _bel air_. BARBARA. Well, Miss Dorothy, perhaps it's out of my place: but I do hope Mr. Austin will come: I should love to have him see my necklace on. DOROTHY. Necklace? what necklace? Did he give you a necklace? BARBARA. Yes, indeed, Miss, that he did; the very same day he drove you in his curricle to Penshurst. You remember, Miss, I couldn't go. DOROTHY. I remember. MISS FOSTER. And so do I. I had a touch of ... Foster in the blood: the family gout, dears!... And you, you ungrateful nymph, had him a whole day to yourself, and not a word to tell me when you returned. DOROTHY. I remember. (_Rising._) Is that the necklace, Barbara? It does not suit you. Give it me. BARBARA. La, Miss Dorothy, I wouldn't for the world. DOROTHY. Come, give it me. I want it. Thank you: you shall have my birthday pearls instead. MISS FOSTER. Why, Dolly, I believe you're jealous of the maid. Foster, Foster: always a Foster trick to wear the willow in anger. DOROTHY. I do not think, madam, that I am of a jealous habit. MISS FOSTER. O, the personage is your excuse! And I can tell you, child, that when George Austin was playing Florizel to the Duchess's Perdita, all the maids in England fell a prey to green-eyed melancholy. It was the _ton_, you see: not to pine for that Sylvander was to resign from good society.