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Updated: June 1, 2025
"We told you of our intentions, papa," said Miss Sophia, "if you brought that old lady to your house." "I didn't bring her; I give you my honour 'twas that scoundrel Bristles," whispered the dismayed Pitskiver. "You told me sir," exclaimed Bristles, "that you would be for ever indebted to me if I brought this lady to your mansion that she was the perfection of grace and innocence.
And while Mr Pitskiver, still panting from his exertions, related to his daughters and their enchanted partners his grounds for anger at the attempt to impose Miss Hendy on him instead of a statue, Mr Daggles shut the front door in great exultation as the last of the intruders vanished, and said "Snipe, old Pits may do after all.
"A marquis is a reg'lar nob, you know; and gives reg'lar good wages when you gets 'em paid. A man can't be a gentleman as lives with vulgar people old Pitskiver is a genuine snob." "He's a rich gentleman," returned Mr Snipe. "But he's low uncommon low" said the other "reg'lar boiled mutton and turnips."
"It's a pity she's an ass," suggested Mr Pitskiver. "I can't help thinking that that's a drawback." "What? what is a drawback, my dear sir?" "That femininity, as Miss Hendy calls it, should be brought so prominently forward in the person of an ass." "An ass? I don't understand! Are you serious?" "Serious! to be sure, my dear Bristles.
I considered that you knew of the arrangement, sir; and I know that, with a soft and feminine trustfulness, this most gentle and intellectual ornament of her sex and species consented to meet the wish you had so ardently expressed." "I never had a wish of the kind," cried Mr Pitskiver; "and I believe you talking fellows and chattering women are all in a plot to make me ridiculous.
"Here," continued Mr Pitskiver, "give me the cord," and so saying he untwisted it in a moment down fell the side of the case, and to the astonished eyes of the assembled critics, and also of the party in the back drawing-room, revealed, not the masterpiece of the immortal Stickleback, but a female figure enveloped in a grey silk cloak, and covering its face with a white muslin handkerchief.
"You'll procure me the pride, the gratification you'll manage it for me." "I will indeed," said Mr Bristles, seizing the offered hand of the overjoyed Pitskiver; "since your happiness depends on it, you may trust to me for every exertion." "And you'll plead my cause you'll speak in the proper quarter?" "Certainly, you may consider it all arranged."
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