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‘I am very happy to find you entertain such honourable opinions, Mr. Sparkins,’ said Mrs. Malderton. ‘And I,’ added Miss Teresa. Horatio looked his delight, and the young lady blushed. ‘Now, it’s my opinion—’ said Mr. Barton. ‘I know what you’re going to say,’ interposed Malderton, determined not to give his relation another opportunity, ‘and I don’t agree with you.’
It might be one of the ministers making himself acquainted with the views of the people. ‘Mr. Sparkins,’ said the delighted Mrs. Malderton, ‘pray divide the ladies. John, put a chair for the gentleman between Miss Teresa and Miss Marianne.’ This was addressed to a man who, on ordinary occasions, acted as half-groom, half-gardener; but who, as it was important to make an impression on Mr.
Sparkins ordered the mourning-coach-looking steed to be brought out—an order which was only complied with, on the distinct understanding that he was to repeat his visit on the following Sunday. ‘But, perhaps, Mr. Sparkins will form one of our party to-morrow evening?’ suggested Mrs. M. ‘Mr. Malderton intends taking the girls to see the pantomime.’ Mr.
‘There he is, my dear,’ whispered Mrs. Malderton to Mr. Malderton. ‘How like Lord Byron!’ murmured Miss Teresa. ‘Or Montgomery!’ whispered Miss Marianne. ‘Or the portraits of Captain Cook!’ suggested Tom. ‘Tom—don’t be an ass!’ said his father, who checked him on all occasions, probably with a view to prevent his becoming ‘sharp’—which was very unnecessary.
Sparkins, had been forced into a white neckerchief and shoes, and touched up, and brushed, to look like a second footman. The dinner was excellent; Horatio was most attentive to Miss Teresa, and every one felt in high spirits, except Mr. Malderton, who, knowing the propensity of his brother-in-law, Mr.
They have no great charms for an elderly man.’ ‘And after all, sir, what is man?’ said the metaphysical Sparkins. ‘I say, what is man?’ ‘Ah! very true,’ said Mr. Malderton; ‘very true.’ ‘We know that we live and breathe,’ continued Horatio; ‘that we have wants and wishes, desires and appetites—’ ‘Certainly,’ said Mr. Frederick Malderton, looking profound.
Malderton. ‘Because, if effect is the consequence of cause, and if cause does precede effect, I apprehend you are wrong,’ added Horatio. ‘Decidedly,’ said the toad-eating Flamwell. ‘At least, I apprehend that to be the just and logical deduction?’ said Sparkins, in a tone of interrogation. ‘No doubt of it,’ chimed in Flamwell again. ‘It settles the point.’ ‘Well, perhaps it does,’ said Mr.
Various surmises were hazarded on the Sunday morning, as to the mode of conveyance which the anxiously-expected Horatio would adopt. Did he keep a gig?—was it possible he could come on horseback?—or would he patronize the stage? These, and other various conjectures of equal importance, engrossed the attention of Mrs. Malderton and her daughters during the whole morning after church.
Was he a surgeon, a contributor to the magazines, a writer of fashionable novels, or an artist?—No; to each and all of these surmises, there existed some valid objection.—‘Then,’ said everybody, ‘he must be somebody.’—‘I should think he must be,’ reasoned Mr. Malderton, within himself, ‘because he perceives our superiority, and pays us so much attention.’
Barton!’ said the servant. ‘Confound the man!’ murmured Malderton. ‘Ah! my dear sir, how d’ye do! Any news?’ ‘Why no,’ returned the grocer, in his usual bluff manner. ‘No, none partickler. None that I am much aware of. How d’ye do, gals and boys? Mr. Flamwell, sir—glad to see you.’ ‘Here’s Mr.
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