“Well,” said Sophy, “if I were to say we were all delighted, who would believe me? It is the most enchanting old house in the world, and a good property, and we have always been led to believe that he was in a consumption. I declare I don’t know what is bad enough for him, if he is going to swindle us out of it, and live.” “Sophy, you should not talk so wildly,” said mild Mrs. Austin from her sofa. “People will think you mean what you say.” “And I do,” said the girl. “I hate a cheat. Papa is quite low about it, and so is cousin Everard. They are down upon their luck.” “Am I?” said Everard, who was a little out of temper, it must be allowed, but chiefly because in the presence of the Guardsmen he was very much thrown into the shade. “I don’t know about being down on my luck; but it’s not a sweet expression for a young lady to use.” “Oh, I don’t mind about expressions that young ladies ought to use!” said Sophy. A tinge of color came on her face at the reproof, but she tossed her pretty head, and went on all the more: “Why shouldn’t girls use the same words as other people do? You men want to keep the best of everything to yourselves--nice strong expressions and all the rest.” “By Jove!” said Lord Alf; “mind you, I don’t like a girl to swear--it ain’t the thing somehow; but for a phrase like ‘down on his luck,’ or ‘awful fun,’ or anything like that--” “And pray why shouldn’t you like a girl to swear?” said Kate. “‘By Jove,’ for instance? I like it. It gives a great deal of point to your conversation, Lord Alf.” “Oh, bless you, that ain’t swearing. But it don’t do. I am not very great at reasons; but, by Jove, you must draw the line somewhere. I don’t think now that a girl ought to swear.” “Except ‘her pretty oath of yea and nay,’” said Everard, who had a little, a very little, literature. The company in general stared at him, not having an idea what he meant; and as it is more humbling somehow to fail in a shot of this description, which goes over the head of your audience, than it is to show actual inferiority, Everard felt himself grow very red and hot, and feel very angry. The scene was the drawing-room at the Hatch, where a party of callers were spending the afternoon, eating bread-and-butter and drinking tea, and planning new delights. After this breakdown, for so he felt it, Everard withdrew hastily to Mrs. Austin’s sofa, and began to talk to her, though he did not quite know what it was about. Mild Mrs. Austin, though she did not understand the attempts which one or two of the visitors of the house had made to flirt with her, was pleased to be talked to, and approved of Everard, who was never noisy, though often “led away,” like all the others, by the foolishness of the girls.