“I dare say so,” said her majesty.
“I must tell Miss Burney a little trait of
Sophia, about Mr. Webb.”
A small table was before the queen, who always has
it brought when she is seated, to put her tea or work
upon, or, when she has neither, to look comfortable,
I believe ; for certainly it takes off much formality
in a standing circle. And close to this, by
the gracious motion of her head, she kept me.
“When first,” continued she, “Mr.
Webb was to come to Sophia, I told her he had had
some accident to disfigure his whole face, by making
him an enormous nose; but I desired her to remember
this was a misfortune, for which he ought to be pitied,
and that she must be sure not to laugh at it, nor
stare at it. And she minded this very well,
and behaved always very properly. But, while
Lady Cremorne was at the Lodge, she Was with Sophia
when Mr. Webb came to give her a lesson. As
soon as he was named, she coloured very red, and ran
up to Lady Cremorne, and said to her in a whisper,
’Lady Cremorne, Mr. Webb has got a very great
nose, but that is only to be pitied —so
mind you don’t laugh.’”
This little princess is just nine years old!
The king joined us while the queen was telling this,
and added, “Poor Mr. Webb was very much discountenanced
when he first saw me, and tried to hide his nose,
by a great nosegay, or I believe only a branch, which
he held before it: but really that had so odd
a look, that it was worse, and more ridiculous, than
his nose. However, I hope he does not mind me,
now, for I have seen him four or five times.”
After this, Mrs. Delany mentioned Madame de la Fite
and her son.
The queen said, “He is a pretty little boy;
and when be goes to school, it will do him ’good,”
312
" Where will she send him ? " said the king.
The queen, looking at me, with a smile answered,
“To the school where Mr. Locke puts his sons.
I know that!”
“Indeed I don’t know; where is it, Miss
Burney?”
“Oh, at young Gilpin’s?” cried the
king. “Is it near Mr. Locke’s?”
“Yes, sir; within about six miles, I believe.”
The queen, then, with a little arch smile, that seemed
to premise she should make me stare, said,
“It was there, at Mr. Locke’s, your sister(196)
laid in?”
“O yes, ma’am!” cried I, out of
breath with surprise.
The king repeated my “O yes!” and said,
“I fancy—by that O —you
were frightened a little for her? What?”
I could not but assent to that; and the king, who
seemed a good deal diverted at the accident—for
he loves little babies too well to look upon it, as
most people would, to be a shocking business—questioned
me about it.
“How was it?” said he,—“how
happened it? Could not she get home?”
