Miss Sibylla Smith. All passed off very well at dinner. Every one was
kind to Frank, and, for his sake, were abundantly civil to his friend;
but that individual seemed to care very little whether we were civil to
him or not. He talked more than all the rest of us put together--
corrected Old Smith on points of law--and put me right on the routine of
crops; proved to old Lambert's own satisfaction that he knew nothing of
stall-feeding, and so belaboured us with great people, with their whole
birth, parentage, and connexions, that we might have fancied he was Mr
Debrett. Sibylla evidently believed he was the most delightful of men;
and certainly the looks she darted at _him_, and the looks he darted at
_her_, were the most extraordinary phenomena of the look kind I ever
happened to see. It was quite evident that the daughter's feelings were
not shared by Old Smith; and I made little doubt he would have been
delighted to give him seven years of the hulks, if he could have found
out any act of Parliament making it penal for a good-looking young
fellow to encourage a silly young woman to make a fool of herself. He
found time, in spite of his apparently monopolizing the whole
conversation, to whisper incessantly into Sibylla's ear. He was
evidently asking questions about her household position--how many
sisters she had--how many brothers--their ages, characters looks, and
the state of their education. He seemed practising for an inspector of
schools. Then he went off to her cousin's, where he had met her in
Russell Square, and the same series of questions about family affairs
was repeated. Was the man engaged in collecting the census returns?

"What a dreadful thing the death of poor Mr Mopple!" said Sibylla. "They
said he wasn't kind to his wife, though I never saw any signs of it at
my cousin's."

"Mopple! Mopple!" he said, as if trying to remember. "Ah! a poor man