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riosity that it was heavy work. Lady Bertram was not certain of any body's dress, or anybody's place at supper, but her own. "She could not recollect what it was that she had heard about one of the Miss Maddox', or what it was that Lady Prescott had noticed in Fanny; she was not sure whether Colonel Harrison had been talking of Mr. Crawford or of William when he said he was the finest young man in the room; somebody had whispered something to her, she had forgot to ask Sir Thomas what it could be." And these were her longest speeches and clearest communications; the rest was only a languid "Yes—yes—very well—did you? did he?—I did not see that—I should not know one from the other." This was very bad. It was only better than Mrs. Norris's sharp answers would have been, but she being gone home with all the supernumerary jellies to nurse a sick maid, there was peace and good
