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Sly, who was flourishing a carving-knife and fork, preparatory to dissecting a gorgeous haunch, had these fearful instruments suddenly precipitated into a trifle, from whose sugared trellis-work he found great difficulty in extricating them; while Miss Gusset, who was on the point of cooling herself with some exquisite iced jelly, found her frigid portion as suddenly transformed into a plate of peculiarly ardent curry, the property, but a moment before, of old Colonel Rangoon.
"Behold the ghosts of Lenox Hall!" cried out Jane tragically. "Behold, behold!" echoed Dozia, raising her arm in its chained gusset and attempting to salute at the peak of her helmet.
He had got hold of a question which was after his own heart, and demanded every second of his attention "Describe, in not more than twelve lines of blank verse, the natural beauties of the River Shar." Here was a chance for the Dominican poet! "The Shar is a very beautiful stream, Of the Ouse a tributary; Up at Gusset Weir it's prettiest, I ween, Because there the birds sing so merry."
Long after, when Count Victor Jean de Montaiglon was come into great good fortune, and sat snug by charcoal-fires in the chateau that bears his name, and stands, an edifice even the Du Barry had the taste to envy, upon the gusset of the roads which break apart a league to the south of the forest of Saint Germain-en-Laye, he would recount, with oddly inconsistent humours of mirth and tense dramatics, the manner of his escape from the cell in the fosse of the great MacCailen.
"All people have their oddities, Miss Gusset. I am sure the Marchioness is not aware how she tries my patience about that little wretch Julie. I had to rub her with warm flannels for an hour and a half before the fire this morning; that is that Vivian Grey's doing." "Who is this Mr. Grey, Miss Graves?" "Who, indeed!
It was a splendid rod, just right for him; how he wished he was up above Gusset Weir at that moment! Why, he could Here he attempted to draw up the rod.
So large as she is, it does not at all suit her. I suppose it's a favourite colour." "Dear Miss Graves, you are always so insinuating. What can Miss Graves mean; eh! Dr. Sly?" A Lord Burleigh shake of the head. "Cynthia Courtown seems as lively as ever," said Miss Gusset. "Yes, lively enough; but I wish her manner was less brusque." "Brusque, indeed! you may well say so.
The next minute they were down in the fine old entrance-hall, to be met by Gusset, who bustled forward out of the porch with his protruding eyes rolling a little as he stared hard at the sergeant, and then, misjudging a movement on the part of Waller, he snatched off his hat. "You ar'n't found them, then?" he said to the sergeant. "No, constable; there's no spy here, French or English.
Lorraine has had enough of his bargain." "Quite evident, I think; eh! Dr. Sly? Those German women never make good English wives," continued Miss Gusset, with all a Toadey's patriotism. "Talking of wives, did not you think Lady Julia spoke very strangely of Sir Peter after dinner to-day? I hate that Lady Julia, if it be only for petting Vivian Grey so."
The days glided on and there was no news of the Squire's coming back, and no fresh alarm or suggestion of the possibility of the soldiers returning to make another search, so Waller grew more and more satisfied in the belief that, however much Gusset might suspect, it was merely suspicion, and there was no more to fear.
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