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As they proceed with great gravity through the streets towards the region of Mount Pleasant, Mr Bagnet, observing his companion to be thoughtful, considers it a friendly part to refer to Mrs Bagnets late sally. George, you know the old girl shes as sweet and as mild as milk. But touch her on the children or myself and shes off like gunpowder. It does her credit, Mat! George, says Mr Bagnet, looking straight before him, the old girl cant do anything that dont do her credit. More or less. I never say so. Discipline must be maintained. Shes worth her weight in gold, returns the trooper. In gold? says Mr Bagnet. Ill tell you what. The old girls weight is twelve stone six. Would I take that weight in any metal for the old girl? No. Why not? Because the old girls metal is far more precious than the preciousest metal. And shes all metal! You are right, Mat! When she took me and accepted of the ring she listed under me and the children heart and head; for life. Shes that earnest, says Mr Bagnet, and true to her colours that, touch us with a finger and she turns out and stands to her arms. If the old girl fires wide once in a way at the call of duty look over it, George. For shes loyal! Why, bless her, Mat, returns the trooper, I think the higher of her for it! You are right! says Mr Bagnet, with the warmest enthusiasm, though without relaxing the rigidity of a single muscle. Think as high of the old girl as the rock of Gibraltar and still youll be thinking low of such merits. But I never own to it before her. Discipline must be maintained. These encomiums bring them to Mount Pleasant, and to Grandfather Smallweeds house. The door is opened by the perennial Judy, who, having surveyed them from top to toe with no particular favour, but indeed with a malignant sneer, leaves them standing there, while she consults the oracle as to their admission. The oracle may be inferred to give consent, from the circumstance of her returning with the words on her honey lips that they can come in if they want to it. Thus privileged they come in, and find Mr Smallweed with his feet in the drawer of his chair as if it were a paper footbath, and Mrs Smallweed obscured with the cushion like a bird that is not to sing. My dear friend, says Grandfather Smallweed, with those two lean, affectionate arms of his stretched forth. How de do? How de do? Who is our friend, my dear friend? Why this, returns George, not able to be very conciliatory at first, is Matthew Bagnet, who has obliged me in that matter of ours, you know. Oh! Mr Bagnet? Surely! The old man looks at him under his hand. Hope youre well, Mr Bagnet? Fine man, Mr George! Military air, sir! No chairs being offered, Mr George brings one forward for Bagnet, and one for himself. They sit down; Mr Bagnet as if he had no power of bending himself, except at the hips for that purpose. Judy, says Mr Smallweed, bring the pipe. Why, I dont know, Mr George interposes, that the young woman need give herself that trouble, for, to tell you the truth, I am not inclined to smoke it to-day. Aint you? returns the old man. Judy, bring the pipe. |
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