We discern, as she talks, more of obstinacy than reason, and more of pride than sense, in her conversation, and the face rather expresses self-will than intellect, although not deficient in the latter.
We are led to suppose, from the appearance of the room in which the mother and daughter are located, that Miss Janetta is somewhat accomplished; more so than young ladies in her position commonly were some thirty or forty years ago.

This is a large parlour, with some pretensions to be called a drawing-room.

True, the furniture is of old-fashioned mahogany, the sofa of hair, the curtains of chintz, and all that appertains to the master and mistress of the house, of solid but ancient make.

But the square piano, the endless succession of baskets, card-racks, etc., the footstools with the worsted-work dog and cat thereon emblazoned, the album and other books, so neatly and regularly placed round the table, and above all, three heads in very bad water-colours that adorn the walls--all proclaim the superior education of the daughter of the house, and her aspirations after modern gentility.
We will just take up the thread of the conversation of the mother and daughter at the end of it, and see what conclusions they have arrived at.

In a somewhat doggedly excited tone, Miss Janetta says,-- 'Well, mother, I know that father would be very angry, and that she might give us all low Irish fever.