'Well, sir, we've got a young relation of hers here, under articles to us, that has as elegant a taste in the dress-making business--I assure you I don't believe there's a Duchess in England can touch her.' 'Not little Em'ly ?' said I, involuntarily.
'Em'ly's her name,' said Mr.Omer, 'and she's little too.

But if you'll believe me, she has such a face of her own that half the women in this town are mad against her.' 'Nonsense, father!' cried Minnie.
'My dear,' said Mr.Omer, 'I don't say it's the case with you,' winking at me, 'but I say that half the women in Yarmouth--ah! and in five mile round--are mad against that girl.' 'Then she should have kept to her own station in life, father,' said Minnie, 'and not have given them any hold to talk about her, and then they couldn't have done it.' 'Couldn't have done it, my dear!' retorted Mr.Omer.

'Couldn't have done it! Is that YOUR knowledge of life?
What is there that any woman couldn't do, that she shouldn't do--especially on the subject of another woman's good looks ?' I really thought it was all over with Mr.Omer, after he had uttered this libellous pleasantry.

He coughed to that extent, and his breath eluded all his attempts to recover it with that obstinacy, that I fully expected to see his head go down behind the counter, and his little black breeches, with the rusty little bunches of ribbons at the knees, come quivering up in a last ineffectual struggle.

At length, however, he got better, though he still panted hard, and was so exhausted that he was obliged to sit on the stool of the shop-desk.
'You see,' he said, wiping his head, and breathing with difficulty, 'she hasn't taken much to any companions here; she hasn't taken kindly to any particular acquaintances and friends, not to mention sweethearts.