I was obliged to be seated between Miss O’Riley and Mr. Crutchley, to whom you may believe I was not very courteous, especially as I had some apprehension of Sir Philip.  Mr. Crutchley, however, to my great surprise, was quite as civil as ever, and endeavoured to be as chatty; but there I begged to be excused, only answering upon the reply, and that very dryly, for I was indeed horribly provoked with him.

I was much diverted during dinner by this Miss O’Riley, who took it in her humour to attack Mr. Crutchley repeatedly, though so discouraging a beau never did I see!  Her forwardness, and his excessive and inordinate coldness, made a contrast that, added to her brogue, which was broad, kept me in a grin irrepressible.

In the afternoon we had also Mr. Wallace, the attorney general, a most squat and squab looking man.  In the evening, when the Irish ladies, the Perkinses, Lambarts, and Sir Philip, had gone, Mrs. Thrale walked out with Mr. Wallace, whom she had some business to talk over with; and then, when only Miss Owen, Miss T., and I remained, Mr. Crutchley, after repeatedly addressing me, and gaining pretty dry answers, called out suddenly,

“Why, Miss Burney! why, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Why, are you stricken, or smitten, or ill?

“None of the three.”

“Oh, then, you are setting down all these Irish folks.”

“No, indeed; I don’t think them worth the trouble.”

“Oh, but I am sure you are; only I interrupted you.”

I went on no further with the argument, and Miss Thrale pro-206

posed our walking out to meet her mother.  We all agreed and Mr. Crutchley would not be satisfied without walking near me, though I really had no patience to talk with him, and wished him at Jericho.

“What’s the matter?” said he; “have you had a quarrel?”

“No.”

“Are you affronted?”

Not a word.  Then again he called to Miss Thrale-

" Why, Queeny—­why, she’s quite in a rage!  What have you done to her?”

I still sulked on, vexed to be teased ; but, though with a gaiety that showed he had no suspicion of the cause, he grew more and more urgent, trying every means to make me tell him what was the matter, till at last, much provoked, I said-

" I must be strangely in want of a confidant, indeed, to take you for one!”

“Why, what an insolent speech!” cried he, half serious and half laughing, but casting up his eyes and hands with astonishment.  He then let me be quiet some time,- but in a few minutes renewed his inquiries, with added eagerness, begging me to tell him if nobody else.

A likely matter! thought I; nor did I scruple to tell him, when forced to answer, that no one had such little chance of success in such a request.

“Why so?” cried he; “for I am the best person in the world to trust with a secret, as I always forget it.”