Faith was very busy, as
the lady of the house, in preparing for a visitor, the mother of Blyth
Scudamore, whom she, with her usual kindness, intended to meet and bring
back from the coach-road that evening; for no less than three coaches
a day passed now within eight miles of Springhaven, and several of the
natives had seen them. Dolly was not to go in the carriage, because
nobody knew how many boxes the visitor might bring, inasmuch as she was
to stop ever so long. "I am tired of all this fuss," cried Dolly; "one
would think Queen Charlotte was coming, at the least; and I dare
say nearly all her luggage would go into the door-pocket. They are
dreadfully poor; and it serves them right, for being so dreadfully
honest."
"If you ever fall into poverty," said Faith, "it will not be from that
cause. When you get your money, you don't pay your debts. You think that
people should be proud to work for you for nothing. There is one house
I am quite ashamed to pass by with you. How long have you owed poor
Shoemaker Stickfast fifteen shillings and sixpence? And you take
advantage of him, because he dare not send it in to father."
"Fashionable ladies never pay their debts," Dolly answered, as she spun
round on one light heel, to float out a new petticoat that she was very
proud of; "this isn't paid for, nor this, nor this; and you with your
slow head have no idea how it adds to the interest they possess. If I
am not allowed to have a bit of fashion in my dress, I can be in the
fashion by not paying for it.
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