"For Becky Sharp," answered Jemima, trembling very much, and
blushing over her withered face and neck, as she turned her back on
her sister. "For Becky Sharp: she's going too."

"MISS JEMIMA!" exclaimed Miss Pinkerton, in the largest capitals.
"Are you in your senses? Replace the Dixonary in the closet, and
never venture to take such a liberty in future."

"Well, sister, it's only two-and-ninepence, and poor Becky will be
miserable if she don't get one."

"Send Miss Sedley instantly to me," said Miss Pinkerton. And so
venturing not to say another word, poor Jemima trotted off,
exceedingly flurried and nervous.

Miss Sedley's papa was a merchant in London, and a man of some
wealth; whereas Miss Sharp was an articled pupil, for whom Miss
Pinkerton had done, as she thought, quite enough, without conferring
upon her at parting the high honour of the Dixonary.

Although schoolmistresses' letters are to be trusted no more nor
less than churchyard epitaphs; yet, as it sometimes happens that a
person departs this life who is really deserving of all the praises
the stone cutter carves over his bones; who IS a good Christian, a
good parent, child, wife, or husband; who actually DOES leave a
disconsolate family to mourn his loss; so in academies of the male
and female sex it occurs every now and then that the pupil is fully
worthy of the praises bestowed by the disinterested instructor.
Now, Miss Amelia Sedley was a young lady of this singular species;
and deserved not only all that Miss Pinkerton said in her praise,