paper editors, and if you
don't go out and eat grass, as a dog does when he is sick, I am no female
woman. The young lord whose hand I refused when I took up with wise
Jasper, once brought two of them to my mother's tan, when hankering after
my company; they did nothing but carp at each other's words, and a pretty
hand they made of it. Ill-favoured dogs they were; and their attempts at
what they called wit almost as unfortunate as their countenances."

"Well," said I, "madam, we will drop all catchings and carpings for the
present. Pray take your seat on this stool, whilst I go and announce to
Miss Isopel Berners your arrival."

Thereupon I went to Belle's habitation, and informed her that Mr. and
Mrs. Petulengro had paid us a visit of ceremony, and were awaiting her at
the fire-place. "Pray go and tell them that I am busy," said Belle, who
was engaged with her needle. "I do not feel disposed to take part in any
such nonsense." "I shall do no such thing," said I; "and I insist upon
your coming forthwith, and showing proper courtesy to your visitors. If
you do not, their feelings will be hurt, and you are aware that I cannot
bear that people's feelings should be outraged. Come this moment, or--"
"Or what?" said Belle, half smiling. "I was about to say something in
Armenian," said I. "Well," said Belle, laying down her work, "I will
come." "Stay," said I; "your hair is hanging about your ears, and your
dress is in disorder; you had better stay a minute or two to prepare
yourself to appear before your visitors, who have come in their very best
attire." "No," said Belle, "I will make no alteration in my appearance;
you told me to come this moment, and you shall be obeyed." So Belle and
I advanced towards our guests. As we drew nigh Mr. Petulengro took off
his hat, and made a profound obeisance to Belle, whilst Mrs. Petulengro
rose from the stool, and made a profound curtsey. Belle, who had flung
her hair back over her shoulders, returned their salutations by bending
her head, and after slightly glancing at Mr. Petulengro, fixed her large
blue eyes full upon his wife. Both these females were very handsome--but
how unlike! Belle fair, with blue eyes and flaxen hair; Mrs. Petulengro
with olive complexion, eyes black, and hair dark--as dark as could be.
Belle, in demeanour calm and proud; the gypsy graceful, but full of
movement and agitation. And then how different were those two in
stature! The head of the