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erness’ should accompany her to Mudbury. Before they had
returned Rebecca had made a conquest of her; having made
her laugh four times, and amused her during the whole of
the little journey.
‘Not let Miss Sharp dine at table!’ said she to Sir Pitt, who
had arranged a dinner of ceremony, and asked all the neigh-
bouring baronets. ‘My dear creature, do you suppose I can
talk about the nursery with Lady Fuddleston, or discuss jus-
tices’ business with that goose, old Sir Giles Wapshot? I insist
upon Miss Sharp appearing. Let Lady Crawley remain up-
stairs, if there is no room. But little Miss Sharp! Why, she’s
the only person fit to talk to in the county!’
Of course, after such a peremptory order as this, Miss
Sharp, the governess, received commands to dine with the
illustrious company below stairs. And when Sir Huddleston
had, with great pomp and ceremony, handed Miss Crawley
in to dinner, and was preparing to take his place by her side,
the old lady cried out, in a shrill voice, ‘Becky Sharp! Miss
Sharp! Come you and sit by me and amuse me; and let Sir
Huddleston sit by Lady Wapshot.’
When the parties were over, and the carriages had rolled
away, the insatiable Miss Crawley would say, ‘Come to my
dressing room, Becky, and let us abuse the company’—
which, between them, this pair of friends did perfectly. Old
Sir Huddleston wheezed a great deal at dinner; Sir Giles
Wapshot had a particularly noisy manner of imbibing his
soup, and her ladyship a wink of the left eye; all of which
Becky caricatured to admiration; as well as the particulars of
the night’s conversation; the politics; the war; the quarterses-

152 Vanity Fair