Bet. [Starting with surprise.] O! heavens!—­I beg, sir, you will not misapprehend me; for I assure you I do not believe they did any harm—­that is, not in the grove—­at least, not when I was there;—­and she may be honestly married for aught I know.—­O! lud! sir,—­I would not say an ill thing of Miss Constantia for the world,—­for to be sure she is a good creature:—­’tis true, my lady took her in for charity, and indeed has bred her up to the music and figures;—­ay, and reading all the books about Homer—­and Paradise—­and Gods and Devils,—­and every thing in the world,—­ as if she had been a dutchess:  but some people are born with luck in their mouths, and then—­as the saying is—­you may throw them into the sea—­ [deports herself most affedtedly.] but—­if I had had dancing masters—­ and music masters—­and French Mounseers to teach me—­I believe I might have read the globes, and the maps,—­and have danced,—­and have been as clever as other folks.

Sid. Ha, ha, ha! no doubt on it, Mrs. Betty;—­but you mentioned something of a dark walk,—­kissing,—­a sweetheart and Constantia.

Bet. [Starts into a cautious hypocrisy.] O! lud! sir—­I don’t know any thing of the matter:  she may be very honest for aught I know:  I only say, that they did meet in the dark walk,—­and all the servants observe that Miss Constantia wears her stays very loose—­looks very pale—­is sick in a morning, and after dinner:  and, as sure as my name is Betty Hint, something has happened that I won’t name,—­but—­nine months hence—­a certain person in this family may ask me to stand godmother, for I think I know what’s what, when I see it as well as another.

Sid.  No doubt you do, Mrs. Betty.

Bet. [Cries, turns up her eyes, and acts a most friendly hypocrisy.] I do, indeed, sir.  I am very sorry for Miss Constantia.  I never thought she would have taken such courses—­for in truth I love her as if she was my own sister; and though all the servants say that she is breeding—­yet, for my part, I don’t believe it; but—­one must speak according to one’s conscience, you know, sir.

Sid.  O!  I see you do.

Bet. [Going and returning.] I do indeed, sir:  and so your servant, sir—­but—­I hope your worship won’t mention my name in this business;—­or that you had any item from me.

Sid.  I shall not, Mrs. Betty.

Bet.  For, indeed, sir, I am no busybody, nor do I love fending nor proving; and, I assure you, sir, I hate all tittling and tattling, and gossiping and backbiting, and taking away a person’s good name.

Sid.  I observe you do, Mrs. Betty.

Set.  I do indeed, sir.  I am the farthest from it in the world.

Sid.  I dare say you are.

Bet.  I am indeed, sir, and so your humble servant.

Sid.  Your servant, Mrs. Betty.