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Updated: June 3, 2025
Frump had secretly admired the powerful though silent legal ability displayed by Mr. Maltboy in the inquisition before Coroner Bullfast.
The speaker flattened his nose still more against the glass by way of emphasis. "You look for beauties among the chimney pots, while I search for them in back-parlor windows," said Matthew Maltboy. "Observe where I throw my eye now." Mr. Maltboy threw his eye toward a house near the middle of the block.
Captain Tonkins cracked his whip with professional sonority over the heads of his lively horses, and they started off at a slapping pace, which brought them to the house of the three friends before the bells had fairly begun to jingle in unison. The door was instantly opened, and Overtop and Maltboy presented themselves, dressed in the most elaborate and captivating style.
Matthew was delighted with the implied compliment to those talents for the stage which every man supposes himself to possess in some degree, and cheerfully undertook the part. The proprieties of costume did not in the least perplex Mr. Maltboy, as he lay on the sofa digesting his dinner, and puffing out smoke rings by the dozen. His thoughts were mildly fixed on that delightful Miss Whedell.
Nothing could be more natural, for instance, than the buttoning up of his pocket over his uncle's gift. But neither that, nor the other strong point, where he exulted in the finest tragedy tones over the anticipated downfall of Fate and Rodicaso, produced the slightest sensation among his hearers. Matthew Maltboy paid the penalty of his intimate relations with Overtop, by an equal unpopularity.
It is the spot where the ardent huntsman of Love pauses to look back, and ceases to bend his longing gaze into the distance beyond. How it came to pass that the unreliable Matthew Maltboy had become the affianced one of the pleasant widow Frump, it is not the purpose of this history to record. Let it suffice to say, that the mutual aversion which they felt, some months before, at Mr.
"Hard to say, at this distance," returned Overtop, who, feeling neglected in the matter of the rustic fence, was controversially disposed. "You may find it so," said Maltboy; "but as for me, the flash of her eyes there, now, for instance! is convincing enough." "Perhaps you have seen her before," remarked Marcus Wilkeson.
The noise of quick footsteps resounded in the entry. Marcus, Overtop, and Maltboy had heard the sharp scream, and were rushing to the rescue. "Good heavens! what will they say?" exclaimed Tiffles. "Don't be silly, Miss Wilkeson, at your time of life." This cutting remark was wrung from him by the annoyance and confusion of the moment.
Tiffles had already borrowed from Overtop and Maltboy, but had generously spared the oldest of the three bachelors. Marcus felt that his time had come, and he would not meanly avoid his destiny. He placed the money in Tiffles's hand. "Give you my note?" asked Tiffles. "Oh, no!" said Marcus; "make it a matter of honor."
But two weeks of this self-imposed exile with no female society but Miss Philomela Wilkeson, and Mash, the cook proved rather too much for Matthew's fortitude. He yawned audibly. "I understand you," said Marcus; "you are sick of this." "Well hum it's a little prosy at times." Maltboy yawned again. "Incorrigible monster!" cried Marcus. "What shall we do with him, Top?"
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