"
"No, madam, it is one worth a hundred fathers; Mr. Jones himself is
here at this very instant." "Mr. Jones!" says Sophia, "it is
impossible! I cannot be so fortunate." Her maid averred the fact,
and was presently detached by her mistress to order him to be
called; for she said she was resolved to see him immediately.
Mrs. Honour had no sooner left the kitchen in the manner we have
before seen than the landlady fell severely upon her. The poor woman
had indeed been loading her heart with foul language for some time,
and now it scoured out of her mouth, as filth doth from a mud-cart,
when the board which confines it is removed. Partridge likewise
shovelled in his share of calumny, and (what may surprize the
reader) not only bespattered the maid, but attempted to sully the
lily-white character of Sophia herself. "Never a barrel the better
herring," cries he, "Noscitur a socio, is a true saying. It must be
confessed, indeed, that the lady in the fine garments is the
civiller of the two; but I warrant neither of them are a bit better
than they should be. A couple of Bath trulls, I'll answer for them;
your quality don't ride about at this time o' night without servants."
"Sbodlikins, and that's true," cries the landlady, "you have certainly
hit upon the very matter; for quality don't come into a house
without bespeaking a supper, whether they eat it or no."
While they were thus discoursing, Mrs. Honour returned and
discharged her commission, by bidding the landlady immediately wake
Mr.
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