Then, applying to Mr. Cholmondeley, she said, “Pray, sir, what is become of my lottery ticket?”

“I don’t know,” answered he.

" Pardie " cried she, “you don’t know nothing

I had now again made off, and, after much rambling, I at last seated myself near the card-table :  but Mrs. Cholmondeley was after me in a minute, and drew a chair next mine.  I now found it impossible to escape, and therefore forced myself to sit still.  Lord Palmerston and Sir Joshua, in a few moments, seated themselves by us.

I must now write dialogue-fashion, to avoid the enormous length of Mrs. C.’s name.

Mrs. C.-I have been very ill; monstrous ill indeed or

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else I should have been at your house long ago.  Sir Joshua, pray how do you do? you know, I suppose, that I don’t come, to see you?

Sir Joshua could only laugh, though this was her first address to him.

Mrs. C.-Pray, miss, what’s your name?

F.B.-Frances, ma’am.

Mrs. C.-Fanny ?  Well, all the Fanny’s are excellent and yet, my name is Mary!  Pray, Miss Palmers, how are you?—­though I hardly know if I shall speak to you to-night, I thought I should have never got here!  I have been so out of humour with the people for keeping me.  If you but knew, cried I, to whom I am going to-night, and who I shall see to-night, you would not dare keep me muzzing here!

During all these pointed speeches, her penetrating eyes were fixed upon me; and what could I do?—­what, indeed, could anybody do, but colour and simper?—­all the company watching us, though all, very delicately, avoided joining the confab.

Mrs. C-My Lord Palmerston, I was told to-night that nobody could see your lordship for me, for that you supped at my house every night.  Dear, bless me, no ! cried I, not every night! and I looked as confused as I was able; but I am afraid I did not blush, though I+ tried hard for it.

Then, again, turning to me,

That Mr. What-d’ye-call-him, in Fleet-street, is a mighty silly fellow;—­perhaps you don’t know who I mean?—­one T. Lowndes,—­but maybe you don’t know such a person?

FB.-No, indeed, I do not!—­that I can safely say.

Mrs. C.-I could get nothing from him:  but I told him I hoped he gave a good price ; and he answered me that he always did things genteel.  What trouble and tagging we had!  Mr. [I cannot recollect the name she mentioned] laid a wager the writer was a man:—­I said I was sure it was a woman:  but now we are both out; for it’s a girl!

In this comical, queer, flighty, whimsical manner she ran on, till we were summoned to supper ; for we were not allowed to break up before:  and then, when Sir Joshua and almost everybody was gone down stairs, she changed her tone, and, with a face and voice both grave, said: 

“Well, Miss Burney, you must give me leave to say One thing to you; yet, perhaps you won’t, neither, will you?”