when they are asked,” said Robin, “are one step before them that were never asked to yield, and two steps before them that yield before they are asked; and that’s an answer to you, sister.”
This fired the sister, and she flew into a passion, and said, things were come to that pass, that it was time the wench—meaning me—was out of the family; and but that she was not fit to be turned out, she hoped her father and mother would consider of it, as soon as she could be removed.
Robin replied, that was for the master and mistress of the family, who were not to be taught by one that had so little judgement as his eldest sister.
It run up a great deal farther; the sister scolded, Robin rallied and bantered, but poor Betty lost ground by it extremely in the family: I heard of it, and cried heartily, and the old lady came up to me, somebody having told her that I was so much concerned about it. I complained to her, that it was very hard the doctors should pass such a censure upon me, for which they had no ground; and that it was still harder, considering the circumstances I was under in the family; that I hoped I had done nothing to lessen her esteem for me, or given any occasion for the bickering between her sons and daughters; and I had more need to think of a coffin, than of being in love, and begged she would not let me suffer in her opinion for anybody’s mistakes but my own.
She was sensible of the justice of what I said, but told me, since there had been such a clamour among them, and that her younger son talked after such a rattling way as he did, she desired I would be so faithful to her, as to answer her but one question sincerely.
I told her I would, and with the utmost plainness and sincerity. Why then the question was, “whether there was anything between her son Robert and me?”
I told her with all the protestations of sincerity that I was able to make, and as I might well do, that there was not, nor ever had been; I told her, that Mr. Robert had rattled and jested, as she knew it was his way, and that I took it always as I supposed he meant it, to be a wild airy way of discourse that had no signification in it; and assured her, that there was not the least tittle of what she understood by it between us; and that those who had suggested it, had done me a great deal of wrong, and Mr. Robert no service at all.
The old lady was fully satisfied, and kissed me, spoke cheerfully to me, and bid me take care of my health, and want for nothing, and so took her leave. But when she came down, she found the brother and all his sisters together by the ears; they were angry even to passion, at his upbraiding them with their being homely, and having never had any sweethearts, never having been asked the question, their being so forward as almost to ask first, and the like. He rallied them with Mrs. Betty; how pretty, how good humoured, how she sung better than they did, and danced better, and how much handsomer she was; and in doing this, he omitted no ill-natured thing that could vex them. The old lady came down in the height of it, and to stop it, told them the discourse she had had with me, and how I answered, that there was nothing between Mr. Robert and I.
“She’s wrong there,” says Robin, “for if there was not a great deal between us, we should be closer together than we are. I told her I loved her hugely,” says he, “but I could never make the jade believe I was in earnest.”
“I do not know how you should,” says his mother, “nobody in their senses could believe you were in earnest, to talk so to a poor girl, whose circumstances you know so well.”
“But prithee, son,” adds she, “since you tell us you could not make her believe you were in earnest, what must we believe about it? For you ramble so in your discourse, that nobody knows whether you are in earnest or in jest. But as I find the girl by her own confession has answered truly, I wish you would do so too, and tell me seriously, so that I may depend upon it. Is there anything in it or no? Are you in earnest or no? Are you distracted indeed, or are you not? ‘Tis a weighty question, I wish you would make us easy about it.”
“By my faith, madam,” says Robin, “‘tis in vain to mince the matter, or tell any more lies about it, I am in earnest, as much as a man is that’s going to be hanged. If Mrs. Betty would say she loved me, and that she would marry me, I’d have her tomorrow morning fasting; and say ‘To have and to hold,’ instead of eating my breakfast.”
“Well,” says the mother, “then there’s one son lost.” And she said it in a very mournful tone, as one greatly concerned at it.
“I hope not, madam,” says Robin, “no man is lost, when a good wife has found him.”
“Why, but child,” says the old lady, “she is a beggar.”
“Why, then, madam, she has the more need of charity,” says Robin. “I’ll take her off the hands of the parish, and she and I’ll beg together.”
“It’s bad jesting with such things,” says the mother.
“I don’t jest, madam,” says Robin: “we’ll come and beg your pardon, madam; and your blessing, madam, and my father’s.”
“This is all out of the way, son,” says the mother, “if you are in earnest, you are undone.”
“I am afraid not,” says he, “for I am really afraid she won’t have me, after all my sister’s huffing, I believe I shall never be able to persuade her to it.”
“That’s a fine tale indeed, she is not so far gone neither. Mrs. Betty is no fool,” says the youngest sister, “do you think she has learned to say ‘no,’ any more than other people?”
“No, Mrs. Mirth-Wit,” says Robin, “Mrs. Betty’s no fool, but Mrs. Betty may be engaged some other way, and what then?”
“Nay,” says the eldest sister, “we can say nothing to that. Who must it be to then? She is never out of the doors, it must be between you.”
“I have nothing to say to that,” says Robin. “I have been examined enough; there’s my brother, if it must be between us, go to work with him.”
This stung the elder brother to the quick, and he concluded that Robin had discovered something. However, he kept himself from appearing disturbed. “Prithee,” says he, “don’t go to sham your stories off upon me, I tell you. I deal in no such ware. I have nothing to say to no Mrs. Bettys in the parish.” And with that he rose up, and brushed off.
“No,” says the eldest sister, “I dare answer for my brother, he knows the world better.”
Thus the discourse ended; but it left the eldest brother quite confounded: he concluded his brother had made a full discovery, and he began to doubt, whether I had been concerned in it, or not; but with all his management, he could not bring it about to get at me; at last he was so perplexed, that he was quite desperate, and resolved he would see me whatever came of it. In order to do this, he contrived it so, that one day after dinner, watching his eldest sister, till he could see her go upstairs, he runs after her, “Hark ye, sister,” says he, “where is this sick woman? May not a body see her?”
“Yes,” says the sister, “I believe you may, but let me go in first a little, and I’ll tell you.” So she ran up to the door, and gave me notice, and presently called to him again: “Brother,” says she, “you may come in if you please.” So in he came, just in the same kind of rant.
“Well,” says he, at the door, as he came in, “where’s this sick body that’s in love? How do ye do, Mrs. Betty?”
I would have got up out of my chair, but was so weak I could not for a good while; and he saw it, and his sister
