Wil. No, no! don't say that: there is no goodness at all in doing any thing for you.
Soph. (going up to Mrs. B. who puts her arm affectionately round her.) My dear aunt!
Wil. Ah, mother! see how tall she has grown since we saw her last, and how dark her hair is now.
Mrs.B. (archly.) You like fair hair best, I believe, William.
Wil. I like fair hair! I can't endure it!
Mrs. B. (smiling.) Well, well, you need not be so vehement in expressing your dislike.
Bea. Here comes Lady Sarah to join us: this at least is civil, you will confess.
Lady S. (coming forward to join them.) You are fond, Ma'am, I perceive, of the shade, from prefering this side of the garden. (formally to Mrs. B. who coldly bows assent.) It is a very pleasant morn for travelling, Mr. Beaumont.
Bea. Yes, Madam, it is a very pleasant morning for travelling.
Lady S. I'm sorry, however, that you will have so much dust on your road to town.
Soph. (to Mrs. B.) Why you don't go to day, aunt? I thought you were to stay longer.
Mrs. B. No, my dear, we go this morning.
(looking significantly to Beaumont.)
Lady S. Would not the cool of the evening be more agreeable?
Mrs. B. No, Ma'am, the coolness of this morning has been quite enough to induce us to set out immediately.
