r it.

I now come to last Saturday evening, when my beloved father came to
Chesington, in full health, charming spirits, and all kindness,
openness, and entertainment.

In his way hither he had stopped at Streatham, and he settled with Mrs.
Thrale that he would call on her again in his way to town, and carry me
with him! and Mrs. Thrale said, "We all long to know her."

I have been in a kind of twitter ever since, for there seems something
very formidable in the idea of appearing as an authoress! I ever dreaded
it, as it is a title which must raise more expectations than I have any
chance of answering. Yet I am highly flattered by her invitation, and
highly delighted in the prospect of being introduced to the Streatham
society.

She sent me some very serious advice to write for the theatre, as she
says I so naturally run into conversations that 'Evelina' absolutely and
plainly points out that path to me; and she hinted how much she should
be pleased to be "honored with my confidence."

My dear father communicated this intelligence, and a great deal more,
with a pleasure that almost surpassed that with which I heard it, and he
seems quite eager for me to make another attempt. He desired to take
upon himself the communication to my Daddy Crisp; and as it is now in so
many hands that it is possible accident might discover it to him, I
readily consented.

Sunday evening, as I was going into my father's room, I heard him
say, "The variety of characters--the variety of scenes--and the
language--why, she has had very little education but what she has given
herself--less than any of the others!" and Mr. Crisp exclaimed,
"Wonderful!--it's wonderful!"

I now found what was going forward, and therefore deemed it most fitting
to decamp.

About an hour after, as I was passing through the hall, I met my daddy
[Crisp]. His face was all animation and archness; he doubled his fist at
me and would have stopped me, but I ran past him into the parlor.

Before supper, however, I again met him, and he would not suffer me to
escape; he caught both my hands and looked as if he would have looked me
through, and then exclaimed, "Why, you little hussy--you young
devil!--ain't you ashamed to look me in the face, you _Evelina_, you!
Why, what a dance have you led me about it! Young friend, indeed! O you
little hussy, what tricks have you served me!"

I was obliged to allow of his running on with these gentle appellations
for I know not