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'Well, child,' said my aunt, when I went downstairs. 'And what of Mr. Dick, this morning?' ¡¡¡¡I informed her that he sent his compliments, and was getting on very well indeed. ¡¡¡¡'What do you think of him?' said my aunt. ¡¡¡¡I had some shadowy idea of endeavouring to evade the question, by replying that I thought him a very nice gentleman; but my aunt was not to be so put off, for she laid her work down in her lap, and said, folding her hands upon it:
oil painting ¡¡¡¡'Come! Your sister Betsey Trotwood would have told me what she thought of anyone, directly. Be as like your sister as you can, and speak out!' ¡¡¡¡'Is he - is Mr. Dick - I ask because I don't know, aunt - is he at all out of his mind, then?' I stammered; for I felt I was on dangerous ground. ¡¡¡¡'Not a morsel,' said my aunt. ¡¡¡¡'Oh, indeed!' I observed faintly. ¡¡¡¡'If there is anything in the world,' said my aunt, with great decision and force of manner, 'that Mr. Dick is not, it's that.'
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