r; would sit apart and not speak
for a whole night if she thought the boy had a better fruit or a larger
cake than hers; would fling away a ribbon if he had one, and would utter
[v]infantile sarcasms about the favor shown her brother.

So it chanced upon this very day, when poor Harry Esmond had had the
blacksmith's son and the [v]peer's son, alike upon his knee, little
Beatrix, who would come to him willingly enough with her book and
writing, had refused him, seeing the place occupied by her brother.
Luckily for her, she had sat at the farther end of the room, away from
him, playing with a spaniel dog which she had, and talking to Harry
Esmond over her shoulder, as she pretended to caress the dog, saying
that Fido would love her, and she would love Fido and nothing but Fido
all her life.

When, then, the news was brought that the little boy at the blacksmith's
was ill with the smallpox, poor Harry Esmond felt a shock of alarm, not
so much for himself as for his mistress's son, whom he might have
brought into peril. Beatrix, who had pouted sufficiently, her little
brother being now gone to bed, was for taking her place on Esmond's
knee. But as she advanced toward him, he started back and placed the
great chair on which he was sitting between him and her--saying in the
French language to Lady Castlewood, "Madam, the child must not approach
me. I must tell you that I was at the blacksmith's to-day and had his
little boy on my lap."

"Where you took my son afterward," Lady Castlewood said, very angry and
turning red. "I thank you, sir, for giving him such company. Beatrix,"
she said in English, "I forbid you to touch Harry Esmond. Come away,
child; come to your room. And you, sir, had you not better go back to
the alehouse?"

Her eyes, ordinarily so kind, darted flashes of anger as she spoke; and
she tossed up her head (which hung down commonly) with the [v]mien of a
princess.

"Heyday!" said my Lord, who was standing by the fireplace, "Rachel, what
are you in a passion about? Though it does you good to get in a
passion--you look very handsome!"

"It is, my Lord, because Mr. Harry Esmond, having nothing to do with his
time here, and not having a taste for our company, has been to the
blacksmith's alehouse, where he has some friends."

My Lord burst out with a laugh.

"Take Mistress Beatrix to bed," my Lady cried at this moment to her
woman, who came in with her Ladyship's tea. "Put her into my room--no,
into you