ing seated at the dinner-table, Miss Hanson called out, in
a loud and angry tone, "Give me some beer!"

Mr. Harewood had previously instructed the servant who waited upon them how
to act, in case he was thus addressed; and in consequence of his master's
commands, the man took no notice whatever of this claim upon his attention.

"Give me some beer!" cried she again, in so fierce a manner that the boys
started, and poor Ellen blushed very deeply, not only from the sense of
shame which she felt for the vulgarity of the young lady's manners, but
from a kind of terror, on hearing such a shrill and threatening voice.

The servant still took no notice of her words, though he did not do it with
an air of defiance, but rather as if it were not addressed to him.

The little angry child muttered, loud enough to be heard--"What a fool the
wretch is!" but as nobody answered what was in fact addressed to no one,
she was at length compelled to look for redress to Mrs. Harewood, whom,
regarding with a mixture of rage and scorn, she now addressed--"Pray,
ma'am, why don't _you_ tell the man to give me some beer? I suppose he'll
understand _you_, though he seems a fool, and deaf."

"My children are accustomed to say--'Please, Thomas, give me some beer;'
or, 'I'll thank you for a little beer;' and the loud rude manner in which
you spoke, probably astonished and confused him. As, however, I certainly
understand you, I will endeavour to relieve you.--Pray, Thomas, be so kind
as to give Miss Hanson some beer," said Mrs. Harewood.

Thomas instantly offered it; but the little girl cried out in a rage--"I
won't have it--no! that I won't, from that man: I'll have my own negro to
wait--that I will!--Must I say _please_ to a servant? must a nasty man in
a livery be _kind_ to me?--no! no! no! Zebby, Zebby, I say, come here!"

The poor black woman, hearing the loud tones of her young lady, to which
she had been pretty well used, instantly ran into the room, before Mr.
Harewood had time to prevent it, and very humbly cried out--"What does
Missy please wanty?"

"Some beer, you black beetle!"

"Is, Missy," said the poor woman, with a sigh, reaching the beer from
Thomas with a trembling hand, as if she expected the glass to be thrown
in her face.

Charles had with great difficulty refrained from laughter on the outset of
this scene; but indignation now suffused his countenance. The young vixen
was an acute observer, and, had she not been cruell