old lady will, to this day, dwell on the looks
of the Squire when he was a young man at college; and she maintains
that none of his sons can compare with their father when he was of
their age, and was dressed out in his full suit of scarlet, with his
hair craped and powdered, and his three-cornered hat.

She has an orphan niece, a pretty, soft-hearted baggage, named Phoebe
Wilkins, who has been transplanted to the Hall within a year or two,
and been nearly spoiled for any condition of life. She is a kind of
attendant and companion of the fair Julia's; and from loitering about
the young lady's apartments, reading scraps of novels, and inheriting
second-hand finery, has become something between a waiting-maid and a
slipshod fine lady.

She is considered a kind of heiress among the servants, as she will
inherit all her aunt's property; which, if report be true, must be a
round sum of good golden guineas, the accumulated wealth of two
housekeepers' savings; not to mention the hereditary wardrobe, and the
many little valuables and knick-knacks, treasured up in the
housekeepers' room. Indeed, the old housekeeper has the reputation,
among the servants and the villagers, of being passing rich; and there
is a japanned chest of drawers, and a large iron-bound coffer in her
room, which are supposed, by the house-maids, to hold treasures of
wealth.

The old lady is a great friend of Master Simon, who, indeed, pays a
little court to her, as to a person high in authority; and they have
many discussions on points of family history, in which,
notwithstanding his extensive information, and pride of knowledge, he
commonly admits her superior accuracy. He seldom returns to the Hall,
after one of his visits to the other branches of the family, without
bringing Mrs. Wilkins some remembrance from the ladies of the house
where he has been staying.

Indeed, all the children of the house look up to the old lady with
habitual respect and attachment, and she seems almost to consider them
as her own, from their having grown up under her eye. The Oxonian,
however, is her favourite, probably from, being the youngest, though
he is the most mischievous, and has been apt to play tricks upon her
from boyhood.

I cannot help mentioning one little ceremony, which, I believe, is
peculiar to the Hall. After the cloth is removed at dinner, the old
housekeeper sails into the room and stands behind the Squire's chair,
when he fills her a glass of wine