of the poor
Protestant artisans of the Liberty, the general, with a solemn wink at
Puddock, and to that officer's terror, came out with--

'Yet, who knows, Lieutenant Puddock, but the weavers, poor fellows, may
be surprised, you know, by a sudden order from the Court, as happened
last year.'

But Aunt Rebecca only raised her eyebrows, and, with a slight toss of
her head, looked sternly at a cold fowl on the other side. But, from
some cause or other--perhaps it was Miss Gertrude's rebellion in
treating the outlawed Puddock with special civility that evening, Miss
Becky's asperity seemed to acquire edge and venom as time proceeded. But
Puddock rallied quickly. He was on the whole very happy, and did not
grudge Mervyn his share of the talk, though he heard him ask leave to
send Miss Gertrude Chattesworth a portfolio of his drawings made in
Venice, to look over, which she with a smile accepted--and at supper,
Puddock, at the general's instigation, gave them a solo, which went off
pretty well, and, as they stood about the fire after it, on a similar
pressure, an imitation of Barry in Othello; and upon this, Miss Becky,
who was a furious partisan of Smock-alley Theatre and Mossop against
Barry, Woodward, and the Crow-street play-house, went off again. Indeed,
this was a feud which just then divided the ladies of all Dublin, and
the greater part of the country, with uncommon acrimony.

'Crow-street was set up,' she harangued, 'to ruin the old house in the
spirit of covetousness, _you_ say' (Puddock had not said a word on the
subject;) 'well, covetousness, we have good authority for saying, is
idolatry--nothing less--_idolatry_, Sir,--you need not stare.' (Puddock
certainly did stare.) 'I suppose you _once_ read your Bible, Sir, but
every sensible man, woman, child, and infant, Sir, in the kingdom, knows
it was malice; and malice, Holy Writ says, is _murder_--but I forgot,
that's perhaps no very great objection with Lieutenant Puddock.'

And little Puddock flushed up, and his round eyes grew rounder and
rounder, as she proceeded, every moment; and he did not know what to
say--for it had not struck him before that Messrs. Barry's and
Woodward's theatrical venture might be viewed in the light of idolatry
or murder. So dumfounded as he was, he took half of Lord Chesterfield's
advice in such cases, that is, he forgot the smile, but he made a very
low bow, and, with this submission, the combat (_si rixa est_) subsided.

Dangerf