again on any account. You know, we have agreed never to drop any expreſſions of that ſort for fear of an accident.
Betty. Dear Ma'am, you may depend upon me. There is not a more truſtier creature on the face of the earth, than I am. Though I ſay it, I am as ſecret as the grave—and if it's never told, till I tell it, it may remain untold till doom's-day for Betty.
Fanny. I know you are faithful—but in our circumſtances we cannot be too careful.
Betty. Very true, Ma'am!—and yet I vow and proteſt, there's more plague than pleaſure with a ſecret; eſpecially if a body mayn't mention it to four or five of one's particular acquaintance.
Fanny. Do but keep this ſecret a little while longer, and then, I hope you may mention it to any body.—Mr. Lovewell will acquaint the family with the nature of our ſituation as ſoon as poſſible.
Betty. The ſooner, the better, I believe: for if he does not tell it, there's a little tell-tale, I know of, will come and tell it for him.
Fanny. Fie, Betty! [bluſhing.]
Betty. Ah! you may well bluſh.—But you're not ſo ſick, and ſo pale, and ſo wan, and ſo many qualms—
Fanny. Have done! I ſhall be quite angry with you.
Betty. Angry!—Bleſs the dear puppet! I am ſure I ſhall love it, as much as if it was my own.—I meant no harm, heaven knows.
Fanny. Well—ſay no more of this—It makes me uneaſy—All I have to aſk of you, is to be faithful and ſecret, and not to reveal this matter, till we diſcloſe it to the family ourſelves.
Betty. Me reveal it!—if I ſay a word, I wiſh I may be burned. I wou'd not do you any harm for the world—And as for Mr. Lovewell, I am ſure I have loved the dear gentleman ever ſince he got a tide-waiter's place for my brother—But let me tell you both, you muſt leave off your ſoft looks to each
