'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 downstairs 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 a.s.sure 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's 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 pa.s.s, 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.

'Come, Mr. Frederick,' said she after tea, 'you promised to make me laugh; and n.o.body can make me laugh so well as yourself.'

'Oh, brother,' said Marianne, 'show Mrs. Theresa Dr. Carbuncle eating his dinner; and I'll be Mrs. Carbuncle.'

_Marianne._ Now, my dear, what shall I help you to?

_Frederick._ 'My dear!' she never calls him my dear, you know, but always Doctor.

_Mar._ Well then, doctor, what will you eat to-day?

_Fred._ Eat, madam! eat! nothing! nothing! I don't see anything here I can eat, ma'am.

_Mar._ Here's eels, sir; let me help you to some eel--stewed eel;--you used to be fond of stewed eel.

_Fred._ Used, ma'am, used! But I'm sick of stewed eels. You would tire one of anything. Am I to see nothing but eels? And what's this at the bottom?

_Mar._ Mutton, doctor, roast mutton; if you'll be so good as to cut it.

_Fred._ Cut it, ma'am! I can't cut it, I say; it's as hard as a deal board. You might as well tell me to cut the table, ma'am. Mutton, indeed! not a bit of fat. Roast mutton, indeed! not a drop of gravy.

Mutton, truly! quite a cinder. I'll have none of it. Here, take it away; take it downstairs to the cook. It's a very hard case, Mrs. Carbuncle, that I can never have a bit of anything that I can eat at my own table, Mrs. Carbuncle, since I was married, ma'am, I that am the easiest man in the whole world to please about my dinner. It's really very extraordinary, Mrs. Carbuncle! What have you at that corner there, under the cover?

_Mar._ Patties, sir; oyster patties.

_Fred._ Patties, ma'am! kickshaws! I hate kickshaws. Not worth putting under a cover, ma'am. And why not have gla.s.s covers, that one may see one's dinner before one, before it grows cold with asking questions, Mrs. Carbuncle, and lifting up covers? But n.o.body has any sense; and I see no water plates anywhere, lately.

_Mar._ Do, pray, doctor, let me help you to a bit of chicken before it gets cold, my dear.

_Fred._ (_aside_). 'My dear,' again, Marianne!

_Mar._ Yes, brother, because she is frightened, you know, and Mrs.

Carbuncle always says 'my dear' to him when she's frightened, and looks so pale from side to side; and sometimes she cries before dinner's done, and then all the company are quite silent, and don't know what to do.

'Oh, such a little creature; to have so much sense, too!' exclaimed Mrs.

Theresa, with rapture. 'Mr. Frederick, you'll make me die with laughing!

Pray go on, Dr. Carbuncle.'

_Fred._ Well, ma'am, then if I must eat something, send me a bit of fowl; a leg and wing, the liver wing, and a bit of the breast, oyster sauce, and a slice of that ham, if you please, ma'am.

(_Dr. Carbuncle eats voraciously, with his head down to his plate, and, dropping the sauce, he b.u.t.tons up his coat tight across the breast._)

_Fred._ Here; a plate, knife and fork, bit o' bread, a gla.s.s of Dorchester ale!

'Oh, admirable!' exclaimed Mrs. Tattle, clapping her hands.

'Now, brother, suppose that it is after dinner,' said Marianne; 'and show us how the doctor goes to sleep.'

Frederick threw himself back in an arm-chair, leaning his head back, with his mouth open, snoring; nodded from time to time, crossed and uncrossed his legs, tried to awake himself by twitching his wig, settling his collar, blowing his nose, and rapping on the lid of his snuff-box.

All which infinitely diverted Mrs. Tattle, who, when she could stop herself from laughing, declared 'it made her sigh, too, to think of the life poor Mrs. Carbuncle led with that man, and all for nothing, too; for her jointure was nothing, next to nothing, though a great thing, to be sure, her friends thought, for her, when she was only Sally Ridgeway before she was married. Such a wife as she makes,' continued Mrs.

Theresa, lifting up her hands and eyes to heaven, 'and so much as she has gone through, the brute ought to be ashamed of himself if he does not leave her something extraordinary in his will; for turn it which way she will, she can never keep a carriage, or live like anybody else, on her jointure, after all, she tells me, poor soul! A sad prospect, after her husband's death, to look forward to, instead of being comfortable, as her friends expected; and she, poor young thing! knowing no better when they married her! People should look into these things beforehand, or never marry at all, I say, Miss Marianne.'

Miss Marianne, who did not clearly comprehend this affair of the jointure, or the reason why Mrs. Carbuncle would be so unhappy after her husband's death, turned to Frederick, who was at that instant studying Mrs. Theresa as a future character to mimic. 'Brother,' said Marianne, 'now sing an Italian song for us like Miss Croker. Pray, Miss Croker, favour us with a song. Mrs. Theresa Tattle has never had the pleasure of hearing you sing; she's quite impatient to hear you sing.'

'Yes, indeed, I am,' said Mrs. Theresa.

Frederick put his hands before him affectedly. 'Oh, indeed, ma'am!

indeed, ladies! I really am so hoa.r.s.e, it distresses me so to be pressed to sing; besides, upon my word, I have quite left off singing. I've never sung once, except for very particular people, this winter.'

_Mar._ But Mrs. Theresa Tattle is a very particular person. I'm sure you'll sing for her.

_Fred._ Certainly, ma'am, I allow that you use a powerful argument; but I a.s.sure you now, I would do my best to oblige you, but I absolutely have forgotten all my English songs. n.o.body hears anything but Italian now, and I have been so giddy as to leave my Italian music behind me.

Besides, I make it a rule never to hazard myself without an accompaniment.

_Mar._ Oh, try, Miss Croker, for once.

(_Frederick sings, after much preluding._)

Violante in the pantry, Gnawing of a mutton-bone; How she gnawed it, How she claw'd it, When she found herself alone!

'Charming!' exclaimed Mrs. Tattle; 'so like Miss Croker, I'm sure I shall think of you, Mr. Frederick, when I hear her asked to sing again.

Her voice, however, introduces her to very pleasant parties, and she's a girl that's very much taken notice of, and I don't doubt will go off vastly well. She's a particular favourite of mine, you must know; and I mean to do her a piece of service the first opportunity, by saying something or other, that shall go round to her relations in Northumberland, and make them do something for her; as well they may, for they are all rolling in gold, and won't give her a penny.

_Mar._ Now, brother, read the newspaper like Counsellor Puff.