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Updated: June 17, 2025
Wisbottle was describing semicircles on the music-stool, turning over the leaves of a book on the piano, and humming most melodiously; Alfred Tomkins was sitting at the round table, with his elbows duly squared, making a pencil sketch of a head considerably larger than his own; O’Bleary was reading Horace, and trying to look as if he understood it; and John Evenson had drawn his chair close to Mrs.
A low, monotonous, gushing sound was heard, which added considerably to the romantic dreariness of the scene. It was the water ‘coming in’ at number eleven. ‘He must be asleep by this time,’ said John Evenson to himself, after waiting with exemplary patience for nearly an hour after Mr. Gobler had left the drawing-room.
Tibbs; crying like a watering-pot. ‘Hush! hush! pray—Mrs. Tibbs—consider—we shall be observed—pray, don’t!’ said John Evenson, fearing his whole plan would be interrupted. ‘We will set the matter at rest with the utmost care, and I shall be most happy to assist you in doing so.’ Mrs. Tibbs murmured her thanks.
‘I know it—I know it,’ replied Evenson, with a melancholy consciousness that there was no mode of escape. ‘What’s to be done? we cannot both stop here!’ ejaculated Mrs. Tibbs, in a state of partial derangement. ‘I’ll get up the chimney,’ replied Evenson, who really meant what he said. ‘You can’t,’ said Mrs. Tibbs, in despair. ‘You can’t—it’s a register stove.’ ‘Hush!’ repeated John Evenson.
‘Good morning, sir,’ said Tibbs again. It was almost the only thing he ever said to anybody. ‘How are you, Tibbs?’ condescendingly replied the amateur; and he walked to the window, and whistled louder than ever. ‘Pretty air, that!’ said Evenson, with a snarl, and without taking his eyes off the paper. ‘Glad you like it,’ replied Wisbottle, highly gratified.
‘I saw the Count de Canky and Captain Fitzthompson in the Gardens,’ said Wisbottle; ‘they appeared much delighted.’ ‘Then it must be beautiful,’ snarled Evenson. ‘I think the white bears is partickerlerly well done,’ suggested Mrs. Bloss. ‘In their shaggy white coats, they look just like Polar bears—don’t you think they do, Mr. Evenson?’
What the deuce! all up and dressed?’ ‘Astonishing!’ said Mrs. Bloss, who had run down-stairs, and taken Mr. Gobler’s arm. ‘Call Mrs. Tibbs directly, somebody,’ said Gobler, turning into the front drawing-room.—‘What! Mrs. Tibbs and Mr. Evenson!!’ ‘Mrs. Tibbs and Mr. Evenson!’ repeated everybody, as that unhappy pair were discovered: Mrs. Tibbs seated in an arm-chair by the fireplace, and Mr.
The gentlemen brought in their spirit-bottles; the housemaid placed divers plated bedroom candlesticks under the card-table; and the servants retired for the night. Chairs were drawn round the table, and the conversation proceeded in the customary manner. John Evenson, who never ate supper, lolled on the sofa, and amused himself by contradicting everybody.
‘Go into the parlour, sir,’ said Agnes to her companion. ‘You will get there, before whoever it is, gets to the top of the kitchen stairs.’ ‘The drawing-room, Mrs. Tibbs!’ whispered the astonished Evenson to his equally astonished companion; and for the drawing-room they both made, plainly hearing the rustling of two persons, one coming down-stairs, and one coming up.
‘Hush!’ exclaimed Agnes, in a tone of the greatest alarm, just as Mrs. Tibbs was on the extreme verge of a fainting fit. ‘Hush!’ ‘Hush!’ exclaimed Evenson, at the same moment to Mrs. Tibbs. ‘There’s somebody coming up-stairs,’ said Agnes to O’Bleary. ‘There’s somebody coming down-stairs,’ whispered Evenson to Mrs. Tibbs.
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