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Updated: June 9, 2025
Ma sez to me, 'Pa, what a boy Corlear is! how he does spend money! And I sez to ma, 'Ma, he do. Tut, tut! The bills. I have to pay for that bay ! I s'pose, now, your Abel don't lay up no money ha! ha!" Mr. Van Boozenberg laughed again, and Mrs. Newt joined, but in a low and rather distressed way, as if it were necessary to laugh, although nothing funny had been said.
No, sez I, ma'am, when you women have made your market, sez I, you oughter stan' one side and give the t'others a chance, sez I." Mr. Van Boozenberg addressed this remark to Lawrence Newt. In the eyes of the old gentleman it was another instance of imprudence on Abel's part not to be already engaged to some rich girl.
When, a little while afterward, Mr. Bennet applied for a situation as book-keeper in the bank of which Mr. Van Boozenberg was president, that officer hung, drew, and quartered the English language, before the very eyes of Mr.
'Yes, says he, in that smiling way of his which does put me almost beside myself, 'yes, you shall go by the general rule, and let people starve; and I'll go by particular cases, and feed 'em. Then he is just as rich as if he were an old flint like Van Boozenberg. Well, it is the funniest, foggiest sort of world. I swear I don't see into it at all I give it all up.
Lawrence Newt replied by looking round the room as if searching for some one, and then saying: "I don't see your daughter, Mrs. Witchet, here to-night, Mr. Van Boozenberg." "No," growled the papa, and moved on to talk with Mrs. Dagon.
When Mr. Van Boozenberg went home to dinner, he said: "Ma, you'd better improve this werry pleasant weather and start for Saratogy as soon as you can. Mr. Boniface Newt tells me his wife and family is there, and you'll find them werry pleasant folks. I jes' want you to write me all about 'em.
Jacob Van Boozenberg having dined, arose from the table, seated himself in a spacious easy-chair, and drawing forth the enormous red bandana, spread it over his head and face, and after a few muscular twitches, and a violent nodding of the head, which caused the drapery to fall off several times, finally propped the refractory head against the back of the chair, and bobbing and twitching no longer, dropped off into temporary oblivion.
Van Boozenberg is silent again. The gentle, rippling murmur of talk fills the room, and at a moment when Moultrie is speaking with his neighbor, Abel says, looking at the engraving of the Madonna, "Miss Grace, I feel like those cherubs." "Why so, Mr. Newt?" "Because I am perfectly happy." "Indeed!" "Yes, Miss Grace, and for the same reason that I entirely love and admire."
The merchants joked complacent jokes. They gossiped a little when business had been discussed. So young Whitloe was really to marry Magot's daughter, and the Doolittle money would go to the Magots after all! And old Jacob Van Boozenberg had actually left off knee-breeches and white cravats, and none of his directors knew him when he came into the Bank in modern costume.
On the other hand, Jacob Van Boozenberg had his little theory of Boniface Newt, which, unlike that worthy commission merchant, he did not impart to his ma and the partner of his bosom, but locked up in the vault of his own breast. Mr. Van B. gloried in being what he called a self-made man. He was proud of his nasal twang and his want of grammar, and all amenities and decencies of speech.
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