We have lost sight of the Claverings, too, until their reappearance
upon the Epsom race-ground, and must give a brief account of them in
the interval. During the past year, the world has not treated any
member of the Clavering family very kindly. Lady Clavering, one of the
best-natured women that ever enjoyed a good dinner, or made a slip in
grammar, has had her appetite and good-nature sadly tried by constant
family grievances, and disputes such as make the efforts of the best
French cook unpalatable, and the most delicately-stuffed sofa-cushion
hard to lie on. "I'd rather have a turnip, Strong, for dessert, than
that pineapple, and all them Muscatel grapes, from Clavering," says
poor Lady Clavering, looking at her dinner-table, and confiding her
griefs to her faithful friend, "if I could but have a little quiet to
eat it with. Oh, how much happier I was when I was a widow, and before
all this money fell in to me!"
The Clavering family had indeed made a false start in life, and had
got neither comfort, nor position, nor thanks for the hospitalities
which they administered, nor a return of kindness from the people whom
they entertained.
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