‘Sir Harold stays very late, ma'am,’ said old Hanway, one day, as she was dressing her lady, or rather standing, with her arms across, seeing her lady dress.

Mrs. Melbourne, who always liked this freedom of conversation in an old and worthy domestic, whom she now considered much more in the light of a friend, replied with good-humour to her remark, which encouraged her to add, – ‘To be sure I'm angry with people in common for keeping up the house so late; but I think nothing of sitting up for Sir Harold, because he's a relation – and because,’ she added, with a significant wink, ‘it's easy to see what he comes for. Well, I hope he'll make the poor child happy,’ she continued, looking with an expression of fondness and anxiety at Matilda, ‘I hope he'll make her happy!’

‘And why should you doubt it, Hanway?’ said Mrs. Melbourne, not quite pleased with the manner in which her words were accented.

‘Oh, no reason, ma'am – only Mr. Franklin, his man, does say he is a comical gentleman.’

‘How! – comical? You must explain yourself.’

Here Hanway took a fit of wonderful discretion; but at length she was brought to own that it was said he did a number of comical things on going to take possession of the Rocks. ‘You know, ma'am,’ (Hanway's usual way of telling her mistress every thing she did not know) 'he sent most of his servants away before he left the Abbey; and writ to Anstey to hire new ones at the Rocks, so that they was all ready to receive him. / He arrived there himself at eleven o'clock at night, and then – Mr. Franklin says this, not I – he went directly down stairs, made a terrible to-do, abused the butler, beat the cook, and knocked the plates and dishes about their heads, and all for not having his dinner ready for him, he said.