I said, I liked Miss Partington as little as she could.  Miss Partington was a silly young creature; who seemed to justify the watchfulness of her guardians over her.—­But nevertheless, as to her own, that I thought the girl (for girl she was, as to discretion) not exceptionable; only carrying herself like a free good-natured creature who believed herself secure in the honour of her company.

It was very well said of me, she replied:  but if that young lady were so well satisfied with her company, she must needs say, that I was very kind to suppose her such an innocent—­for her own part, she had seen nothing of the London world:  but thought, she must tell me plainly, that she never was in such company in her life; nor ever again wished to be in such.

There, Belford!—­Worse off than Mercury!—­Art thou not?

I was nettled.  Hard would be the lot of more discreet women, as far as I knew, that Miss Partington, were they to be judged by so rigid a virtue as hers.

Not so, she said:  but if I really saw nothing exceptionable to a virtuous mind, in that young person’s behaviour, my ignorance of better behaviour was, she must needs tell me, as pitiable as hers:  and it were to be wished, that minds so paired, for their own sakes should never be separated.

See, Jack, what I get by my charity!

I thanked her heartily.  But said, that I must take the liberty to observe, that good folks were generally so uncharitable, that, devil take me, if I would choose to be good, were the consequence to be that I must think hardly of the whole world besides.

She congratulated me upon my charity; but told me, that to enlarge her own, she hoped it would not be expected of her to approve of the low company I had brought her into last night.

No exception for thee, Belford!—­Safe is thy thousand pounds.

I saw not, I said, begging her pardon, that she liked any body.—­[Plain dealing for plain dealing, Jack!—­Why then did she abuse my friends?] However, let me but know whom and what she did or did not like; and, if possible, I would like and dislike the very same persons and things.

She bid me then, in a pet, dislike myself.

Cursed severe!—­Does she think she must not pay for it one day, or one night?—­And if one, many; that’s my comfort.

I was in such a train of being happy, I said, before my earnestness to procure her to favour my friends with her company, that I wished the devil had had as well my friends as Miss Partington—­and yet, I must say, that I saw not how good people could answer half their end, which is to reform the wicked by precept as well as example, were they to accompany only with the good.

I had the like to have been blasted by two or three flashes of lightning from her indignant eyes; and she turned scornfully from me, and retired to her own apartment.

Once more, Jack, safe, as thou seest, is thy thousand pounds.