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Bagnet, laughing. "Well, you do surprise me! Yet he's like you, there's no denying. Lord, he's wonderfully like you! But about what you may call the brow, you know, THERE his father comes out!" Mr. Bucket compares the faces with one eye shut up, while Mr. Bagnet smokes in stolid satisfaction. This is an opportunity for Mrs. Bagnet to inform him that the boy is George's godson.
George had received them with a familiar nod and a friendly look, but without any more particular greeting in the midst of his address. He now shook them cordially by the hand and said, "Miss Summerson and gentlemen, this is an old comrade of mine, Matthew Bagnet. And this is his wife, Mrs. Bagnet." Mr. Bagnet made us a stiff military bow, and Mrs. Bagnet dropped us a curtsy.
George not turning round from the almanac over the fire-place. Mr. Bagnet takes upon himself to reply, "Yes, ma'am. Formerly." "I thought so. I was sure of it. My heart warms, gentlemen, at the sight of you. It always does at the sight of such. God bless you, gentlemen! You'll excuse an old woman, but I had a son once who went for a soldier.
Bagnet trusts to the combined endearments of Quebec and Malta to restore him, but finding those young ladies sensible that their existing Bluffy is not the Bluffy of their usual frolicsome acquaintance, she winks off the light infantry and leaves him to deploy at leisure on the open ground of the domestic hearth. But he does not. He remains in close order, clouded and depressed.
Every man must live, and ought to it." Mr. Bagnet shakes his head at the old girl to the effect that they have found a jewel of price. "Suppose I was to give you a look in, say, at half arter ten to- morrow morning. Perhaps you could name the figures of a few wiolincellers of a good tone?" says Mr. Bucket. Nothing easier. Mr. and Mrs.
Bagnet," said my guardian. "Do you mean to let her go in that way?" "Can't help it," he returned. "Made her way home once from another quarter of the world. With the same grey cloak. And same umbrella. Whatever the old girl says, do. Do it! Whenever the old girl says, I'LL do it. She does it."
Bagnet in the meantime has shaken hands with his old comrade and with Phil, on whom Mrs. Bagnet likewise bestows a good-humoured nod and smile. "Now, George," said Mrs.
Bagnet with a warmth approaching to rapture, engages himself for that day twelvemonth more than thankfully, makes a memorandum of the day in a large black pocket- book with a girdle to it, and breathes a hope that Mrs. Bucket and Mrs. Bagnet may before then become, in a manner, sisters. As he says himself, what is public life without private ties?
He is a most respectable man with a wife and family, formerly in the Royal Artillery " "My friend, I don't care a pinch of snuff for the whole Royal Artillery establishment officers, men, tumbrils, waggons, horses, guns, and ammunition." "'Tis likely, sir. But I care a good deal for Bagnet and his wife and family being injured on my account.
"George," says Mr. Bagnet, "tell the old girl. What's the matter." "I didn't know I looked white," says the trooper, passing his hand over his brow, "and I didn't know I looked shocked, and I'm sorry I do. But the truth is, that boy who was taken in at my place died yesterday afternoon, and it has rather knocked me over." "Poor creetur!" says Mrs. Bagnet with a mother's pity. "Is he gone?
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