ng's
sister. "Oh, girls, what good company he was! And his books are worth
a dozen of your milksop Pamelas and Clarissas, Mrs. Lambert: but what
woman ever loved true humour? And there was Mr. Johnson sitting amongst
the charity children. Did you see how he turned round to the altar
at the Belief, and upset two or three of the scared little urchins in
leather breeches? And what a famous sermon Harry's parson gave, didn't
he? A sermon about scandal. How, he touched up some of the old harridans
who were seated round! Why wasn't Mr. Warrington at church? It was a
shame he wasn't at church."

"I really did not remark whether he was there or not," says Miss Hetty,
tossing her head up.

But Theo, who was all truth, said, "Yes, I thought of him, and was sorry
he was not there; and so did you think of him, Hetty."

"I did no such thing, miss," persists Hetty.

"Then why did you whisper to me it was Harry's clergyman who preached?"

"To think of Mr. Warrington's clergyman is not to think of Mr.
Warrington. It was a most excellent sermon, certainly, and the children
sang most dreadfully out of tune. And there is Lady Maria at the window
opposite, smelling at the roses; and that is Mr. Wolfe's step, I know
his great military tramp. Right left--right left! How do you do, Colonel
Wolfe?"

"Why do you look so glum, James?" asks Colonel Lambert, good-naturedly.
"Has the charmer been scolding thee, or is thy conscience pricked by the
sermon. Mr. Sampson, isn't the parson's name? A famous preacher, on my
word!"

"A pretty preacher, and a pretty practitioner!" says Mr. Wolfe, with a
shrug of his shoulders.

"Why, I thought the discourse did not last ten minutes, and madam did
not sleep one single wink during the sermon, didst thou, Molly?"

"Did you see when the fellow came into church?" asked the indignant
Colonel Wolfe. "He came in at the open door of the common, just in time,
and as the psalm was over."

"Well, he had been reading the service probably to some sick person;
there are many here," remarks Mrs. Lambert.

"Reading the service! Oh, my good Mrs. Lambert! Do you know where I
found him? I went to look for your young scapegrace of a Virginian."

"His own name is a very pretty name, I'm sure," cries out Hetty. "It
isn't Scapegrace! It is Henry Esmond Warrington, Esquire."

"Miss Hester, I found the parson in his cassock, and Henry Esmond
Warrington, Esquire, in his bedgown, at a quarter before eleven o'clock
in t