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Jenkins?’ ‘Jenkins in a blue coat!’ cries the gentleman with a groan; ‘Jenkins in a blue coat! a man who would suffer death rather than wear anything but brown!’ ‘Do you dare to charge me with telling an untruth?’ demands the lady, bursting into tears. ‘I charge you, ma’am,’ retorts the gentleman, starting up, ‘with being a monster of contradiction, a monster of aggravation, a—a—a—Jenkins in a blue coat!—what have I done that I should be doomed to hear such statements!’
"You be a right smart young maverick not to get lost none on this long trail, and no one to p’int you right if you strayed," commented Mary’s patroness, affably. "But we won’t roominate here no longer than we can help. It’s too hard on old Ma’am Rodney. She’s just ’bout the color of withered cabbage now, ’long of me havin’ you." While she talked, Mrs.
Had she heard bad news from her friends? No. Had any of the servants vexed her? ‘Oh, no, ma’am!’ she answered; ‘it’s not for myself.’ ‘What then, Rachel? Have you been reading novels?’ ‘Bless you, no!’ said she, with a sorrowful shake of the head; and then she sighed and continued: ‘But to tell you the truth, ma’am, I don’t like master’s ways of going on.’ ‘What do you mean, Rachel?
"Yes, ma’am," said Janice, turning to put down the tray, and then crossing the room to seek something on the chimney-piece. Aunt Mary gave a sudden twist,—as if the drink had infused an effervescing energy into her frame. "Well what am I goin’ to do to-day?" she asked. "Mr. Denham has written out your engagements here," said Janice, handing her a jeweler’s box as she spoke.
"Yes." "Where is he?" demanded the muleteer with an oath. She placed her lighted candle on the bar. "Wait," she said. "Read these first we must be quite certain about what we do." She laid the squares of tissue paper out on the bar. "Do you read Flemish?" she whispered. "No, ma’am " "Then I will translate into French for you.
Tibbs to the servant, who, by way of making her presence known to her mistress, had been giving sundry hems and sniffs outside the door during the preceding five minutes. ‘Please, ma’am, master wants his clean things,’ replied the servant, taken off her guard.
Cymon Tuggs; seeing that the military gentleman was casting an admiring look towards Miss Charlotta. ‘My wife, ma’am—Mrs. Captain Waters,’ said the military gentleman, presenting the black-eyed young lady. ‘My mother, ma’am—Mrs. Tuggs,’ said Mr. Cymon. The military gentleman and his wife murmured enchanting courtesies; and the Tuggses looked as unembarrassed as they could.
Here the clown throws himself on the ground, and goes through a variety of gymnastic convulsions, doubling himself up, and untying himself again, and making himself look very like a man in the most hopeless extreme of human agony, to the vociferous delight of the gallery, until he is interrupted by a second cut from the long whip, and a request to see ‘what Miss Woolford’s stopping for?’ On which, to the inexpressible mirth of the gallery, he exclaims, ‘Now, Miss Woolford, what can I come for to go, for to fetch, for to bring, for to carry, for to do, for you, ma’am?’ On the lady’s announcing with a sweet smile that she wants the two flags, they are, with sundry grimaces, procured and handed up; the clown facetiously observing after the performance of the latter ceremony—‘He, he, oh!
He knew what the gangway man of the steamer had seen: “A lady in a black dress and a black veil, wandering at midnight alongside, on the quay. ‘Are you going by the boat, ma’am,’ he had asked her encouragingly. ‘This way.’ She seemed not to know what to do. He helped her on board. She seemed weak.”
What is the first article?’ inquired the obsequious master of the ceremonies of the establishment, who, in his large white neckcloth and formal tie, looked like a bad ‘portrait of a gentleman’ in the Somerset-house exhibition. ‘I want to see some silks,’ answered Mrs. Malderton. ‘Directly, ma’am.—Mr. Smith! Where is Mr. Smith?’ ‘Here, sir,’ cried a voice at the back of the shop.
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