The scene-painter was gone, having spoilt only the
floor of one room, ruined all the coachman's sponges,
and made five of the under-servants idle and dissatisfied;
and Sir Thomas was in hopes that another day or two would
suffice to wipe away every outward memento of what had been,
even to the destruction of every unbound copy of Lovers'
Vows in the house, for he was burning all that met his eye.
Mr. Yates was beginning now to understand Sir Thomas's intentions,
though as far as ever from understanding their source.
He and his friend had been out with their guns the chief of
the morning, and Tom had taken the opportunity of explaining,
with proper apologies for his father's particularity,
what was to be expected. Mr. Yates felt it as acutely
as might be supposed. To be a second time disappointed
in the same way was an instance of very severe ill-luck;
and his indignation was such, that had it not been for delicacy
towards his friend, and his friend's youngest sister,
he believed he should certainly attack the baronet on
the absurdity of his proceedings, and argue him into a
little more rationality.
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