"I don't judge of these things by rule and measure," said my mother: "try
my smelling-bottle, my dear." Very few people, especially women of delicate
nerves and quick feelings, could, as my mother observed, bear to be laughed
at; particularly by those they loved; and especially before other people
who did not know them perfectly. My mother was persuaded, she said, that
Lord Mowbray had not reflected on all this when he had laughed so
inconsiderately.

Mowbray allowed that he certainly had not reflected when he had laughed
inconsiderately. "So come, come. Anne, sister Anne, be friends!" then
playfully tapping his sister on the back, the pretty, but sullen back of
the neck, he tried to raise the drooping head; but finding the chin resist
the upward motion, and retire resentfully from his touch, he turned upon
his heel, and addressing himself to me, "Well! Harrington," said he, "the
news of the day, the news of the theatre, which I was bringing you full
speed, when I stumbled upon this cursed half-pint of asses' milk, which
Mrs.. Harrington was so angry with me for overturning--"

"But what's the news, my lord?" said my mother.

"News! not for you, ma'am, only for Harrington; news of the Jews."

"The Jews!" said my mother.

"The Jews!" said I, both in the same breath, but in very different tones.

"_Jews_, did I say?" replied Mowbray: "Jew, I should have said."

"Mr. Montenero?" cried I.