“How dost thou know what wits should or should not do?  Thou hast no talent but ill-nature; and ’tis enough for thee, that one view takes up thy whole thought.  Pursue that—­But I would only caution thee, not to satiate where thou wouldst oblige, that’s all; or, if thy man can be so gross as to like thy fondness, to leave something for hereafter.”

“I’ll call him in again, sister, and you shall acquaint us how you’d have it.  Bell” (for the maid came in just then), “tell Mr. Murray I desire him to walk in.”—­“I’m glad to see thee so teachable all at once!—­I find now what was the cause of thy constant perverseness:  for had the unavailing lessons my mamma was always inculcating into thee, come from a man thou couldst have had hopes of, they had succeeded better.”

In came Sir Simon with his crutch-stick—­But can you bear this nonsense, Mrs. B.?—­“What sparring, jangling again, you sluts!—­O what fiery eyes on one side! and contemptuous looks on t’other!”

“Why, papa, my sister Polly has turned over Mr. Murray to me, and she wants him back again, and he won’t come—­That’s all the matter!”

“You know Nancy, papa, never could bear reproof, and yet would always deserve it!—­I was only gently remarking for her instruction, on her fondness before company, and she is as she used to be!—­Courtship, indeed, is a new thing to the poor girl, and so she knows not how to behave herself in it.”

“So, Polly, because you have been able to run over a long list of humble servants, you must insult your sister, must you?—­But are you really concerned, Polly?—­Hey!”—­“Sir, this or anything is very well from you.  But these imputations of envy, before Mr. Murray, must make the man very considerable with himself.  Poor Nancy don’t consider that.  But, indeed, how should she?  How should she be able to reflect, who knows not what reflection is, except of the spiteful sort?  But, papa, should the poor thing add to his vanity, which wants no addition, at the expense of that pride, which can only preserve her from contempt?”

I saw her affected, and was resolved to pursue my advantage.

“Pr’ythee, Nancy,” continued I, “canst thou not have a little patience, child—­My papa will set the day as soon as he shall think it proper.  And don’t let thy man toil to keep pace with thy fondness; for I have pitied him many a time, when I have seen him stretched on the tenters to keep thee in countenance.”

This set the ill-natured girl in tears and fretfulness; all her old temper came upon her, as I designed it should, for she had kept me at bay longer than usual; and I left her under the dominion of it, and because I would not come into fresh dispute, got my mamma’s leave, and went in the chariot, to beg a dinner at Lady Jones’s; and then came home as cool and as easy as I used to be; and found Nancy as sullen and silent, as was her custom, before Mr. Murray tendered himself to her ready acceptance.  But I went to my spinnet, and suffered her to swell on.