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Updated: May 5, 2025
The system did not work smoothly at first, in consequence of Overtop's and Maltboy's strained, excessive efforts to make themselves agreeable. It happened that, at the first two or three houses visited, Maltboy discovered charming young ladies, and could not resist the temptation to linger beyond the prescribed minutes, and talk trifles to them.
The tall girl in the immense skirts appeared rarely to reward Matthew Maltboy's ardent gaze, and even then seemed to look down at the dingy snow beneath, or the clouds overhead, or to something or somebody across the way, but never to the fluttering Maltboy. Nothing more was seen of the pale and grayhaired workman; for he kept the lower curtain of his window jealously drawn.
Wilkeson and Overtop laughed, and, with a common impulse, punched Maltboy triumphantly in the ribs a friendly salute that was always vastly amusing to that gentleman. "Be it understood, at this stage of affairs," said Marcus, solemnly, "that I reject the Overtop theory, and wash my hands of all responsibility for Maltboy's misdeeds. Hallo! There he is again." "Who?
Though these multiplied transfers of affection occasionally caused some disappointment among the victims of Mr. Maltboy's inconstancy, it was wisely ordained that he should be the principal sufferer that every new passion should involve him in new difficulties, and subject him to a degree of mental distress which would have reduced the flesh of any man not hopelessly predisposed to fatness. As Mr.
Whedell was too great an adept in the art of borrowing, to waste words of tedious explanation and gratitude, which only produce an impression that the borrower does not mean to pay. He accepted Maltboy's reply as a matter of course. "If not too much trouble, could you give me a check to-night?" asked Mr. Whedell. "Have a payment to make before bank hours to-morrow."
"You provoking creature," said Miss Whedell, "to talk so, when you know that I have been to at least eighteen parties!" Miss Whedell scowled charmingly as she spoke, and then added, with a pleasant smile, for the benefit of Mr. Maltboy: "She's a gay young widow; and you know what widows are." Mr. Maltboy's knowledge of that species of the human family was extensive and exact.
The gleam of a shapely neck, of a pearl necklace and diamond cross, of diamond earrings, of an enormous gold brooch, of golden gyves an inch broad on each wrist, as the rose-tinted rays fell on those natural and artificial charms, produced a dazzling effect in the shady corner. On plainer persons, this display might have seemed, in Maltboy's eyes, a glaring instance of bad taste.
Maltboy's part consisted of "Yes;" "I think so too;" "We agree perfectly," and adjectives of admiration occasionally thrown in. That musical voice! He could have listened with rapture to its recital of the multiplication table.
Frump; what philosophical sayings uttered on the spur of the moment by Fayette Overtop; what slightly impertinent but always amiable remarks advanced by Wesley Tiffles; all this might be imagined, with a slight mental effort; but not so Matthew Maltboy's new misfortune. Profiting by Mrs.
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