Henry Tilney's Diary (9781101559024) by Amanda Grange

not knowing whether she might venture to laugh, but a pleasing smile played about her lips. She was not used to being teased – teasing being in short supply in the country, it seems – and I could not resist the urge to tease her further.
    â€˜I see what you think of me,’ I remarked. ‘I shall make but a poor figure in your journal tomorrow.’
    â€˜My journal!’ she exclaimed.
    â€˜Yes, I know exactly what you will say: Friday, went to the Lower Rooms; wore my sprigged muslin robe with blue trimmings – plain black shoes – appeared to much advantage; but was strangely harassed by a queer, half-witted man, who would make me dance with him, and distressed me by his nonsense.’
    â€˜Indeed I shall say no such thing,’ she returned.
    â€˜Shall I tell you what you ought to say?’
    â€˜If you please.’
    â€˜I danced with a very agreeable young man, introduced by Mr King; had a great deal of conversation with him – seems a most extraordinary genius – hope I may know more of him. That, madam, is what I wish you to say.’
    â€˜But, perhaps, I keep no journal,’ she returned, smiling in reply.
    â€˜Perhaps you are not sitting in this room, and I am not sitting by you. Not keep a journal! How are your various dresses to be remembered, and the particular state of your complexion, and curl of your hair to be described in all their diversities, without having constant recourse to a journal? It is this delightful habit of journaling which largely contributes to form the easy style of writing for which ladies are so generally celebrated. Everybody allows that the talent of writing agreeable letters is peculiarly female.’
    Still she did not dare to laugh, though I was sure she wanted to.
    â€˜I have sometimes thought,’ she said, ‘whether ladies do write so much better letters than gentlemen! That is, I should not think the superiority was always on our side.’
    â€˜As far as I have had opportunity of judging, it appears to me that the usual style of letter-writing among women is faultless, except in three particulars.’
    â€˜And what are they?’ she asked.
    â€˜A general deficiency of subject, a total inattention to stops, and a very frequent ignorance of grammar.’
    I could tease her no more, for we were joined by Mrs Allen, the woman with whom Miss Morland was staying. Indeed, it was Mrs Allen, along with her estimable husband, who had brought Miss Morland to Bath. Journaling and letter-writing were forgotten and muslins became the subject, on account of Mrs Allen’s fearing she had torn hers. She was astonished that I understood muslins.
    I told her I understood them particularly well, for I always bought my own cravats, and my sister had often trusted me in the choice of a gown.
    â€˜I bought one for her the other day, and it was pronounced to be a prodigious bargain by every lady who saw it. I gave but five shillings a yard for it, and a true Indian muslin,’ I remarked.
    Mrs Allen was quite struck.
    â€˜Men commonly take so little notice of those things,’ said she. ‘I can never get Mr Allen to know one of my gowns from another. You must be a great comfort to your sister, sir.’
    â€˜I hope I am, madam,’ I replied.
    â€˜And pray, sir, what do you think of Miss Morland’s gown?’ she asked me.
    I looked at Miss Morland and thought it looked uncommonly charming. I could not say so, however, for fear of producing expectations of an early call, or indeed, an offer of marriage. And so I said, ‘It is very pretty, madam, but I do not think it will wash well; I am afraid it will fray.’
    Miss Morland was laughing now, having decided she could, or having realized that she could not help herself, one or the other. ‘How can you,’ she said, ‘be so—’
    I had the delightful feeling she was going to say strange , and indeed I was willing her to do so. It