some from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both

with news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in

the neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was

the head-quarters.
Their visits to Mrs. Philips were now productive of the most interesting

intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the

officers’ names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a secret,

and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr. Philips

visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a source of felicity

unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr.

Bingley’s large fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their

mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of

an ensign.{38}
After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr.

Bennet coolly observed,—
“From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two

of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but

I am now convinced.”
Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with perfect

indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter, and

her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the

next morning to London.
“I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that you should be so

ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly

of anybody’s children, it should not be of my own, however.”
“If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it.”
“Yes; but as it happens, they are all of them very clever.”
“This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I

had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must

so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonly

foolish.”
“My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of