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Sagittarius." The little clergyman turned almost black in the face. "Biggle!" he exclaimed, in a voice of thunder. "Biggle! Biggle!" And, without further parley, he rushed to the cloak-room, seized someone else's hat and coat, and fared forth into the night. Lady Enid, who had meant to coach Mrs.
"Biggle of course," she said to the little clergyman, who passed on with an air of reliant self-satisfaction. "Delighted to see you," she added, this time addressing the Prophet's old and valued friends. "Ah! Mr. Sagi Sagi um I have heard so much of you from dear Miss Minerva."
The two women were walking off toward "our view," each with an arm about the other's waist touched by a sudden sisterhood of sympathy. "Gentlemen," said Mr. Brede, addressing Jacobus, Biggle, the Major and me, "there is a hostelry down the street where they sell honest New Jersey beer. I recognize the obligations of the situation." We five men filed down the street.
And she shook hands warmly with a very small and saturnine clergyman decorated with a shock of ebon hair, who was passing at the moment. "Biggle!" said the little clergyman. Mrs. Bridgeman started and smiled. "Biggle!" repeated the little clergyman. "Biggle!" The guitars rose up with violence, and all the hot, drubbing passion of Bayswater being Spanish.
Bridgeman, turning ecstatically to the person nearest to her, who happened to be the saturnine little clergyman. "Isn't she marvellous, Mr. er Mr. Segerteribus?" "Biggle!" cried the little clergyman. "I beg your pardon?" "Biggle!" vociferated the little clergyman. "Biggle!" "Certainly. Did you ever see anything like that cure? Ah! you ought to preach about dear Harriet, Mr.
Segerteribus, you really " "Biggle!" reiterated the little clergyman, excitedly. "Biggle! Biggle!" "What does he " began Mrs. Bridgeman, turning helplessly towards the Prophet. "It's his name, I fancy," whispered the Prophet. Mrs. Bridgeman started and smiled. "Mr. Biggle," she said. The little clergyman moved on towards the guitars with all the air of a future colonial bishop. Mrs.
"Say the oxygen, darling," whispered Lady Enid in one of her ears. "Say the oxygen!" hissed the Prophet into the other. "The occiput?" said Mrs. Bridgeman, hearing imperfectly. "Oh, yes, Sir Tiglath, I told him, I told Mr. Biggle to make quite sure yes, as to the occiput matter."
Now what I ask of you, and I don't want you to take it as in no ways personal, is hev you your merridge-license with you?" "No," we heard the voice of Mr. Brede reply. "Have you yours?" I think it was a chance shot; but it told all the same. Biggle and I looked at each other; and Mr. Jacobus, on the other side of the grape-trellis, looked at I don't know what and was as silent as we were.
"Yes, indeed, I so agree with you, dear Mr. Sagittarius," said Mrs. Bridgeman to the little clergyman. "Biggle!" the little clergyman cried in a portentous voice. "Biggle! Biggle!" "What does he mean?" whispered Mrs. Bridgeman to the Prophet. "How does one?" "I think that is his name. These are Mr. and Madame Sagittarius." Mrs. Bridgeman started and smiled.
Tabb and Miss Hoogencamp, the two middle-aged gossips from Scranton, Pa. out of Mr. and Mrs. Biggle, an indurated head-bookkeeper and his prim and censorious wife out of old Major Halkit, a retired business man, who, having once sold a few shares on commission, wrote for circulars of every stock company that was started, and tried to induce every one to invest who would listen to him?
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