"Well, no, I suppose not," I said at length, pulling off the other.
Annas smiled gravely, and said no more.
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Glorious news! The Prince is at Derby. I am sure there is no more need
to fear for Angus. His Royal Highness will be here in a very few days
now: and then let the Whigs look to themselves!
Grandmamma has bought some more white cockades. She says Hatty has
improved wonderfully; her cheeks are not so shockingly red, and she
speaks better, and has more decent manners. She thinks the Crosslands
have done her a great deal of good. I thought Hatty looking not at all
well the last time she was here; and so grave for her--almost sad. And
I am afraid the Crosslands, or somebody, have done her a great deal of
bad. But somehow, Hatty is one of those people whom you cannot question
unless she likes. Something inside me will not put the questions. I
don't know what it is.
I wish I knew everything! If I could only understand myself, I should
get on better. And how am I going to understand other people?
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Note 1. A clergyman always wore his cassock at this time. Whitefield
was very severe on those worldly clergy who laid it aside, and went
"disguised"--namely, in the ordinary coat--to entertainments of various
kinds.