ours.'

For which remark papa bantered him, and his uncle was sharp on him; and
Charles, I know, spoke half seriously, though he was seeking to draw Mrs.
Romer out: he has troubles.

From this, we fell upon a comparison of sufferings, and Mrs. Romer took
up the word. She is a fair, smallish, nervous woman, with delicate hands
and outlines, exceedingly sympathetic; so much so that while you are
telling her anything, she makes half a face in anticipation, and is ready
to shriek with laughter or shake her head with uttermost grief; and
sometimes, if you let her go too far in one direction, she does both.
All her narrations are with ups and downs of her hands, her eyes, her
chin, and her voice. Taking poor, good old Mr. Romer by the roll of his
coat, she made as if posing him, and said: 'There! Now, it's all very
well for you to say that there is anything equal to a woman's sufferings
in this world. I do declare you know nothing of what we unhappy women
have to endure. It's dreadful! No male creature can possibly know what
tortures I have to undergo.'

Mama neatly contrived, after interrupting her, to divert the subject.
I think that all the ladies imagined they were in jeopardy, but I knew
Mrs. Romer was perfectly to be trusted. She has wit which pleases,
jusqu'aux ongles, and her sense of humour never overrides her discretion
with more than a glance--never with preparation.

'Now,' she pursued, 'let me tell you what excruciating trials I have to
go through. This man,' she rocked the patient old gentleman to and fro,
'this man will be the death of me. He is utterly devoid of a sense of
propriety. Again and again I say to him--cannot the tailor cut down