ingenious method of paying her court to her open-hearted friend, at the
expense equally of truth and of her daughter, she executed with her
usual address.

"Well, I'm heartily glad, my dear good madam, to find that you have the
same prejudices against sprigs of quality that I have. One good commoner
is worth a million of them to my mind. So I told a puppy of a nephew of
mine, who would go and buy a baronetage, forsooth--disinherited him! but
he is dead, poor puppy."

"Poor young man! But this is all new to me," said Mrs. Beaumont, with
well-feigned surprise.

"But did not you know, my dear madam, that I had a nephew, and that
he is dead?"

"Oh, yes; but not the particulars."

"No; the particulars I never talk of--not to the poor dog's credit. It's
well he's dead, for if he had lived, I am afraid I should have forgiven
him. No, no, I never would. But there is no use in thinking any more of
that. What were we saying? Oh, about your Amelia--our Amelia, let me
call her. If she is so much attached, poor thing, to this man, though he
is a baronet, which I own is against him to my fancy, yet it is to be
presumed he has good qualities to balance that, since she values him;
and young people must be young, and have their little foolish
prepossessions for title, and so forth. To be sure, I should have
thought my friend's daughter above that, of such a good family as she
is, and with such good sense as she inherits too. But we have all our
foibles, I suppose. And since it is so with Amelia, why do let me see