the way. I am for your betters, Colonel, for your betters: do
you hear that? You might do if you had an estate and were younger; only
eight years older than I, you say! pish, you are a hundred years older.
You are an old, old Graveairs, and I should make you miserable, that
would be the only comfort I should have in marrying you. But you have
not money enough to keep a cat decently after you have paid your man his
wages, and your landlady her bill. Do you think I am going to live in
a lodging, and turn the mutton at a string whilst your honor nurses the
baby? Fiddlestick, and why did you not get this nonsense knocked out of
your head when you were in the wars? You are come back more dismal and
dreary than ever. You and mamma are fit for each other. You might be
Darby and Joan, and play cribbage to the end of your lives."

"At least you own to your worldliness, my poor Trix," says her mother.

"Worldliness. Oh, my pretty lady! Do you think that I am a child in the
nursery, and to be frightened by Bogey! Worldliness, to be sure; and
pray, madam, where is the harm of wishing to be comfortable? When you
are gone, you dearest old woman, or when I am tired of you and have
run away from you, where shall I go? Shall I go and be head nurse to my
Popish sister-in-law, take the children their physic, and whip 'em,
and put 'em to bed when they are naughty? Shall I be Castlewood's upper
servant, and perhaps marry Tom Tusher? Merci! I have been long enough
Frank's humble servant. Why am I not a man? I have ten times his brains,
and had I worn the--well, don't let your ladyship be frightened--had
I worn a sword and periwig instead of this mantle and commode to which
nature has condemned me--(though 'tis a pretty stuff, too--Cousin
Esmond! you will go to the Exchange to-morrow, and get the exact
counterpart of this ribbon, sir; do you hear?)--I would have made our
name talked about. So would Graveairs here have made something out of
our name if he had represented it. My Lord Graveairs would have done
very well. Yes, you have a very pretty way, and would have made a very
decent, grave speaker." And here she began to imitate Esmond's way of
carrying himself and speaking to his face, and so ludicrously that his
mistress burst out a-laughing, and even he himself could see there was
some likeness in the fantastical malicious caricature.

"Yes," says she, "I solemnly vow, own, and confess, that I want a
good husband. Where's the harm of one