"Mr. Crawley, you are intoxicated, as usual," replied his wife. And

the next morning, when the Rector woke, and called for small beer, she

put him in mind of his promise to visit Sir Huddleston Fuddleston on

Saturday, and as he knew he should have a wet night, it was agreed that

he might gallop back again in time for church on Sunday morning. Thus

it will be seen that the parishioners of Crawley were equally happy in

their Squire and in their Rector.

Miss Crawley had not long been established at the Hall before Rebecca's

fascinations had won the heart of that good-natured London rake, as

they had of the country innocents whom we have been describing. Taking

her accustomed drive, one day, she thought fit to order that "that

little governess" should accompany her to Mudbury. Before they had

returned Rebecca had made a conquest of her; having made her laugh four

times, and amused her during the whole of the little journey.

"Not let Miss Sharp dine at table!" said she to Sir Pitt, who had

arranged a dinner of ceremony, and asked all the neighbouring baronets.

"My dear creature, do you suppose I can talk about the nursery with

Lady Fuddleston, or discuss justices' business with that goose, old Sir

Giles Wapshot? I insist upon Miss Sharp appearing. Let Lady Crawley

remain upstairs, if there is no room. But little Miss Sharp! Why, she's

the only person fit to talk to in the county!"

Of course, after such a peremptory order as this, Miss Sharp, the

governess, received commands to dine with the illustrious company below

stairs. And when Sir Huddleston had, with great pomp and ceremony,

handed Miss Crawley in to dinner, and was preparing to take his place

by her side, the old lady cried out, in a shrill voice, "Becky Sharp!

Miss Sharp! Come you and sit by me and amuse me; and let Sir

Huddleston sit by Lady Wapshot."

When the parties were over, and the carriages had rolled away, the

insatiable Miss Crawley would say, "Come to my dressing room, Becky,

and let us abuse the company"--which, between them, this pair of

friends did perfectly. Old Sir Huddleston wheezed a great deal at

dinner; Sir Giles Wapshot had a particularly noisy manner of imbibing

his soup, and her ladyship a wink of the left eye; all of which Becky

caricatured to admiration; as well as the particulars of the night's

conversation; the politics; the war; the quarter-sessions; the famous

run with the H.H., and those heavy and dreary themes, about which

country gentlemen converse. As for the Misses Wapshot's toilettes and

Lady Fuddleston's famous yellow hat, Miss Sharp tore them to tatters,

to the infinite amusement of her audience.

"My dear, you are a perfect trouvaille," Miss Crawley would say. "I

wish you could come to me in London, but I couldn't make a butt of you

as I do of poor Briggs no, no, you little sly creature; you are too

clever--Isn't she, Firkin?"




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