“At home, Big Betsey, mentioned before as the maid of all work, never considered as any part of her multitudinous duties the waiting on Miss Lucy, who she not only said ‘mought moind herself,’ but sometimes called to her, almost authoritatively, ‘to lend a hauping haund.’  It was, probably, in consequence of the habit thus engendered, that Lady Castleton was one day caught ‘lending a helping hand’ to an over-loaded under laundry-maid, who had been sent by her superior with a wicker-bound snowy freight of her Ladyship’s own superfine linen.  But of all the irksome feelings caused by Lucy’s new position, there was none from which she suffered more, than waiting to be waited on.  And it was hinted in the hall, that when my Lord was not in the room, my Lady got up to help herself to what she wanted from the sideboard!!  And it was whispered in the female conclave of the housekeeper’s room, that her Lady-ship seemed even to like to—­lace her own stays!!”

Again, after Lady Castleton receiving a visit from a ton-ish family, his Lordship asks:—­

And did they make many inquiries of you? ask many questions?”

“Oh, such a many!”

“So many, dearest love, you mean to say.”

“Well, so I do, thank you; and then the mamma asked me, as she had never seen me before, if I had not been much abroad; and I said, never at all till I married; and then she said, ‘What! had I been to Paris since?’ and I find she meant foreign parts by abroad.  And she told me that we ought to go to London soon; that the season was advanced, and that the Pasta would come out soon this spring.  What is the Pasta—­a plant?”

“A plant! no, love.  Pasta is a singer’s name, you could not be expected to know that; but I hope you didn’t say any thing to show them your ignorance?”

“Oh, no; you told me, whenever I was completely puzzled, that silence was best; so I said nothing.  Pasta’s the name of a singer, then!  Oh, that accounts, for a moment after she the mamma said, that her daughter Arabella sang delightfully, and asked me if I would sing with her; so I said no, I’d much rather listen.  That was right, warn’t it?  You see I knew you’d ask me all about it, so I recollected it for you.  Arabella then asked me if I would accompany her? so I said, Wherever she liked,—­where did she want to go?  But, I suppose, she altered her mind, for she sat down to the grand instrument you had brought here for me to begin my lessons upon; and then she sang such an extraordinary song—­all coming from her throat.  And the sister asked me if I understood German? and I answered, No, nor French neither.”

“That was an unnecessary addition, my love.”

“Well, so it was.  Then the youngest sister explained to me, that it was a song a Swiss peasant girl sang whilst she was milking her cow; and I said that must be very difficult, to sing while milking a cow.  And then the mamma asked how I knew; and I said I had tried very often.”