It describes a sensation in your little nose associated with certain finicking notions which are the classics of Mrs. Lemon's school.
Look at my mother; you don't see her objecting to everything except what she does herself.
She is my notion of a pleasant woman."
"Bless you both, my dears, and don't quarrel," said Mrs. Vincy, with motherly cordiality.
"Come, Fred, tell us all about the new doctor.
How is your uncle pleased with him?"
"Pretty well, I think.
He asks Lydgate all sorts of questions and then screws up his face while he hears the answers, as if they were pinching his toes.
That's his way.
Ah, here comes my grilled bone."
"But how came you to stay out so late, my dear?
You only said you were going to your uncle's."
"Oh, I dined at Plymdale's.
We had whist.
Lydgate was there too."
"And what do you think of him?
He is very gentlemanly, I suppose.
They say he is of excellent family—his relations quite county people."
"Yes," said Fred.
"There was a Lydgate at John's who spent no end of money.
I find this man is a second cousin of his.
But rich men may have very poor devils for second cousins."
"It always makes a difference, though, to be of good family," said Rosamond, with a tone of decision which showed that she had thought on this subject. Rosamond felt that she might have been happier if she had not been the daughter of a Middlemarch manufacturer.
She disliked anything which reminded her that her mother's father had been an innkeeper.
Certainly any one remembering the fact might think that Mrs. Vincy had the air of a very handsome good-humored landlady, accustomed to the most capricious orders of gentlemen.
"I thought it was odd his name was Tertius," said the bright-faced matron, "but of course it's a name in the family.
But now, tell us exactly what sort of man he is."
"Oh, tallish, dark, clever—talks well—rather a prig, I think."
"I never can make out what you mean by a prig," said Rosamond.
"A fellow who wants to show that he has opinions."
"Why, my dear, doctors must have opinions," said Mrs. Vincy.
"What are they there for else?"
"Yes, mother, the opinions they are paid for.
But a prig is a fellow who is always making you a present of his opinions."
"I suppose Mary Garth admires Mr. Lydgate," said Rosamond, not without a touch of innuendo.
"Really, I can't say." said Fred, rather glumly, as he left the table, and taking up a novel which he had brought down with him, threw himself into an arm-chair.
"If you are jealous of her, go oftener to Stone Court yourself and eclipse her."
"I wish you would not be so vulgar, Fred.
If you have finished, pray ring the bell."
"It is true, though—what your brother says, Rosamond," Mrs. Vincy began, when the servant had cleared the table.
"It is a thousand pities you haven't patience to go and see your uncle more, so proud of you as he is, and wanted you to live with him.
There's no knowing what he might have done for you as well as for Fred.
God knows, I'm fond of having you at home with me, but I can part with my children for their good.
And now it stands to reason that your uncle Featherstone will do something for Mary Garth."
"Mary Garth can bear being at Stone Court, because she likes that better than being a governess," said Rosamond, folding up her work.
"I would rather not have anything left to me if I must earn it by enduring much of my uncle's cough and his ugly relations."
"He can't be long for this world, my dear; I wouldn't hasten his end, but what with asthma and that inward complaint, let us hope there is something better for him in another.
And I have no ill-will toward's Mary Garth, but there's justice to be thought of.
And Mr. Featherstone's first wife brought him no money, as my sister did.
Her nieces and nephews can't have so much claim as my sister's.