_Isaac_. Oh, yes; I have softened her.

_Don Jer_. What, does she come to?

_Isaac_. Why, truly, she was kinder than I expected to find her.

_Don Jer_. And the dear little angel was civil, eh?

_Isaac_. Yes, the pretty little angel was very civil.

_Don Jer_. I'm transported to hear it! Well, and you were astonished
at her beauty, hey?

_Isaac_. I was astonished, indeed! Pray, how old is Miss?

_Don Jer_. How old? let me see--eight and twelve--she is twenty.

_Isaac_. Twenty?

_Don Jer_. Ay, to a month.

_Isaac_. Then, upon my soul, she is the oldest-looking girl of her age
in Christendom!

_Don Jer_. Do you think so? But, I believe, you will not see a
prettier girl.

_Isaac_. Here and there one.

_Don Jer_. Louisa has the family face.