It is certain that the 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
slip-shod fine lady.

[Illustration: Phoebe Wilkins]

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 housekeeper's
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 housemaids 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