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Agnes Grey

'WELL, Agnes, you must not take such long walks again before breakfast,' said
my mother, observing that I drank an extra cup of coffee and ate nothing -
pleading the heat of the weather, and the fatigue of my long walk as an excuse. I
certainly did feel feverish and tired too.
'You always do things by extremes: now, if you had taken a short walk every
morning, and would continue to do so, it would do you good.'
'Well, mamma, I will.'
'But this is worse than lying in bed or bending over your books: you have quite
put yourself into a fever.'
'I won't do it again,' said I.
I was racking my brains with thinking how to tell her about Mr. Weston, for she
must know he was coming to-morrow. However, I waited till the breakfast things
were removed, and I was more calm and cool; and then, having sat down to my
drawing, I began - 'I met an old friend on the sands to-day, mamma.'
'An old friend! Who could it be?'
'Two old friends, indeed. One was a dog;' and then I reminded her of Snap,
whose history I had recounted before, and related the incident of his sudden
appearance and remarkable recognition; 'and the other,' continued I, 'was Mr.
Weston, the curate of Horton.'
'Mr. Weston! I never heard of him before.'
'Yes, you have: I've mentioned him several times, I believe: but you don't
'I've heard you speak of Mr. Hatfield.'
'Mr. Hatfield was the rector, and Mr. Weston the curate: I used to mention him
sometimes in contradistinction to Mr. Hatfield, as being a more efficient
clergyman. However, he was on the sands this morning with the dog - he had
bought it, I suppose, from the rat-catcher; and he knew me as well as it did -
probably through its means: and I had a little conversation with him, in the course
of which, as he asked about our school, I was led to say something about you,
and your good management; and he said he should like to know you, and asked