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Updated: June 21, 2025
"If you call me a beast, I'll punch your head off!" answered the young man, who had much skill in the art which many of his brethren practise. "I didn't, my fine fellow," replied Walker. "On the contrary, you " "Do you mean to give me the lie?" broke out the indignant Mossrose, who hated the agent fiercely, and did not in the least care to conceal his hate.
"A pretty business it would be if I wasn't," replied Mossrose, doggedly. "Come, ma'am," says he, "I'll tell you vat I do: I take fifty per shent; not a farthing less give me that, and out your husband goes." "Oh, sir, Howard will pay you in a week." "Vell, den, let him stop at my uncle Bendigo's for a week, and come out den he's very comfortable there," said Shylock with a grin.
"Hadn't you better go to the shop, Mr. Eglantine," continued he, "and look after your business? Mrs. Walker can't want you to listen to her all day." Eglantine was glad of the excuse, and slunk out of the studio; not into the shop, but into his parlour; where he drank off a great glass of maraschino, and sat blushing and exceedingly agitated, until Mossrose came to tell him that Mrs.
Alas! the poor fellow's vanity and delight were such, that he could not keep silent as to the cause of his satisfaction; and rather than not mention it at all, in the fulness of his heart he would have told his secret to Mr. Mossrose himself.
Having that sort of opinion of Mr. Mossrose which Damocles may have had of the sword which hung over his head, of course Mr. Eglantine hated his foreman profoundly. "HE an artist," would the former gentleman exclaim; "why, he's only a disguised bailiff! Mossrose indeed! The chap's name's Amos, and he sold oranges before he came here." Mr. Mossrose, on his side, utterly despised Mr.
"Give it up, or I'll kill you-" "Mr. Mossrose! Mr. Mossrose!" shouted the perfumer. "Vell, vatsh de matter, vatsh de row, fight avay, my boys; two to one on the tailor," said Mr. "Tell him about that hair, sir." "That hair! Now keep yourself quiet, Mister Timble, and don't tink for to bully ME. You mean Mrs. Valker's 'air? Vy, she sold it me." "And the more blackguard you for buying it!
Woolsey did not answer, but walked up to Mr. Eglantine, and snapped his fingers so close under the perfumer's nose that the latter started back and seized the bell-rope. Mossrose burst out laughing, and the tailor walked majestically from the shop, with both hands stuck between the lappets of his coat.
This bill of Eglantine's is a regular conspiracy, I am sure, between Mossrose and Bendigo here: you must go to Eglantine he's an old an old flame of yours, you know." She dropped his hand: "I can't go to Eglantine after what has passed between us," she said; but Walker's face instantly began to wear a certain look, and she said with a shudder, "Well, well, dear, I WILL go."
At ten o'clock the next morning, a gentleman, with the King's button on his military coat, walked abruptly into Mr. Eglantine's shop, and, turning on Mr. Mossrose, said, "Tell your master I want to see him." "He's in his studio," said Mr. Mossrose. "Well, then, fellow, go and fetch him!"
And Mossrose, thinking it must be the Lord Chamberlain, or Doctor Praetorius at least, walked into the studio, where the perfumer was seated in a very glossy old silk dressing-gown, his fair hair hanging over his white face, his double chin over his flaccid whity-brown shirt-collar, his pea-green slippers on the hob, and on the fire the pot of chocolate which was simmering for his breakfast.
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