She knew Miss Smith was tired to death of constant companionship with Mrs.Cavely, Tinman's sister.

She generally came once in the day just to escape from Mrs.Cavely, who would not, bless you! step into a cottager's house where she was not allowed to patronize.

Fortunately Miss Smith had induced her father to get his own wine from the merchants.
"A happy resolution," said Fellingham; "and a saving one." He heard further that Mr.Smith would take possession of the Crouch next month, and that Mrs.Cavely hung over Miss Smith like a kite.
"And that old Tinman, old enough to be her father!" said Mrs.
Crickledon.
She dealt in the flashes which connect ideas.

Fellingham, though a man, and an Englishman, was nervously wakeful enough to see the connection.
"They'll have to consult the young lady first, ma'am." "If it's her father's nod she'll bow to it; now mark me," Mrs.
Crickledon said, with emphasis.

"She's a young lady who thinks for herself, but she takes her start from her father where it's feeling.