Even Miss Pinkerton, that austere and godlike
woman, ceased scolding her after the first time, and though she no
more comprehended sensibility than she did Algebra, gave all masters
and teachers particular orders to treat Miss Sedley with the utmost
gentleness, as harsh treatment was injurious to her.
So that when the day of departure came, between her two customs of
laughing and crying, Miss Sedley was greatly puzzled how to act.
She was glad to go home, and yet most woefully sad at leaving
school. For three days before, little Laura Martin, the orphan,
followed her about like a little dog. She had to make and receive
at least fourteen presents--to make fourteen solemn promises of
writing every week: "Send my letters under cover to my grandpapa,
the Earl of Dexter," said Miss Saltire (who, by the way, was rather
shabby). "Never mind the postage, but write every day, you dear
darling," said the impetuous and woolly-headed, but generous and
affectionate Miss Swartz; and the orphan little Laura Martin (who
was just in round-hand), took her friend's hand and said, looking up
in her face wistfully, "Amelia, when I write to you I shall call you
Mamma." All which details, I have no doubt, JONES, who reads this
book at his Club, will pronounce to be excessively foolish, trivial,
twaddling, and ultra-sentimental. Yes; I can see Jones at this
minute (rather flushed with his joint of mutton and half pint of
wine), taking out his pencil and scoring under the words "foolish,
twaddling," &c.
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