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"At half after one." Says Mr. Bagnet. "To the minute. They'll be done." Mrs. Bagnet, with anguish, beholds one of them at a standstill before the fire and beginning to burn. "You shall have a dinner, old girl," says Mr. Bagnet. "Fit for a queen." Mrs.
You could as soon take up and shoulder an eight and forty pounder by your own strength as turn that man when he has got a thing into his head and fixed it there. Why, don't I know him!" cried Mrs. Bagnet. "Don't I know you, George! You don't mean to set up for a new character with ME after all these years, I hope?"
Phil, with a look at his master, hobbles up, saying, "Here's the guv'ner, Mrs. Bagnet! Here he is!" and the old girl herself, accompanied by Mr. Bagnet, appears. The old girl never appears in walking trim, in any season of the year, without a grey cloth cloak, coarse and much worn but very clean, which is, undoubtedly, the identical garment rendered so interesting to Mr.
Bagnet, in a perfect abyss of gravity, walks up and down before the little parlour window like a sentry and looks in every time he passes, apparently revolving something in his mind. "Come, Mat," says Mr. George when he has recovered himself, "we must try the lawyer. Now, what do you think of this rascal?" Mr.
"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.
Then we'll consult. Whatever the old girl says, do do it!" "I intend to, Mat," replies the other. "I would sooner take her opinion than that of a college." "College," returns Mr. Bagnet in short sentences, bassoon-like. "What college could you leave in another quarter of the world with nothing but a grey cloak and an umbrella to make its way home to Europe? The old girl would do it to-morrow.
The extreme disquietude of the old housekeeper's manner in saying this, her broken words, and her wringing of her hands make a powerful impression on Mrs. Bagnet and would astonish her but that she refers them all to her sorrow for her son's condition. And yet Mrs. Bagnet wonders too why Mrs. Rouncewell should murmur so distractedly, "My Lady, my Lady, my Lady!" over and over again.
Bagnet as she blew a little dust off the pickled pork, looking at me again; "and when ladies and gentlemen know you as well as I do, they'll give up talking to you too. If you are not too headstrong to accept of a bit of dinner, here it is." "I accept it with many thanks," returned the trooper. "Do you though, indeed?" said Mrs. Bagnet, continuing to grumble on good-humouredly.
Bagnet hospitably declares that he will hear of no business until after dinner and that his friend shall not partake of his counsel without first partaking of boiled pork and greens. The trooper yielding to this invitation, he and Mr.
Young Woolwich's knife, in particular, which is of the oyster kind, with the additional feature of a strong shutting-up movement which frequently balks the appetite of that young musician, is mentioned as having gone in various hands the complete round of foreign service. The dinner done, Mrs. Bagnet and the visitor may not be retarded in the smoking of their pipes.
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