“Speaking of tipplers, to be sure, I should value your view on the matter of my new man-servant, Mrs. Darcy, for he seems to me to be continually out of humour, and always ascending from the cellar whenever he is wanted. I have given him a jobation on several occasions, but he insists that I am mistaken. ‘Young man,’ I said, ‘you are a sot and a disgrace, and might as well have your bed in the cellar for all the time you spend down there.’ He assured me that his time in the cellar is spent on attending to the safety of the provisions stored thither, which I believe to be a tall story, indeed. ‘Young man,’ said I, ‘objection is not in your power, for I know you to be drunk, and you shall have your liberty at the end of this very month.’ The saucy fellow proceeded to walk as straight as a die along the stones to prove his sobriety, and so I have kept him on. If I am being ill-used by the scoundrel, I should like to know it.”

“Would you like some more tea, Miss Darcy? I rather think I must have eaten too high myself last night, for my face is inflamed somewhat and the side of it is painful. It was the funeral of Mrs. Symonds yesterday afternoon, a small and sad affair, despite the family’s pretensions. They sent me neither hat-band nor gloves, which I thought scandalous, and so I did not wear my best gown as a mark of my lack of respect for their carryings-on, but poor Mrs. Symonds was—I admit—a kindly and good-natured soul (as compared with her family), although—as might be expected—she had a great deal of the Symonds physiognomy, which, I am sure, was a disappointment to herself as well, but this could not be helped—everyone cannot be favoured, or who would be plain? The younger Symonds girl has a bump upon her head, most disturbing in shape and size. She is the same age as my niece—have you not seen my niece, who is come to stay with me? She is a sweet girl, but does not ride, and speaks in a disagreeably shrill tone, which my kind sister imputes to a common failing on her husband’s side. She is reckoned quiet in her own home, I believe, but is certainly not regarded so at the parsonage for she continues her chatter all hours of the day until the blessing of bed-time is arrived.”