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Updated: June 13, 2025
I have done well; it is true philosophy to 'make assurance doubly sure, and to take a bond of fate. Now for a revisal of that last stanza; and, I think, I'll read it aloud to that young cub, as Rushton calls him. No doubt his forest character, primitive and poetical, will cause him to appreciate its beauties. Hallo!" Verty replied by a snore. "What, asleep!" cried Mr. Roundjacket.
Roundjacket, as he uttered this simple excuse, and so winning was the careless sunshine of his countenance, that honest Roundjacket, uttering an expiring grumble, declared that nothing was more natural than his drowsiness.
That gentleman complied, and made him a new one. Verty wrote for five minutes with the new one; and then split it deplorably. Mr. Roundjacket heard the noise, and protested against such carelessness. "Oh," sighed Verty, "this writing is a terrible thing to-day; I want a holiday." "There's no holiday in law, sir." "Never?" "No, never." "It's a very slavish thing, then," Verty said.
Roundjacket's poem "that we are incapable even of appreciating the delightful society of the fairest and most exquisite of the opposite sex." Miss Lavinia shook her head with a ghostly smile. "I'm afraid you are very gallant, Mr. Roundjacket." "I, madam? no, no; I am the coldest and most prosaic of men." "But your poem?" "You have heard of that?" "Yes, indeed, sir."
Roundjacket still driving away with his pen, only stopping at intervals to flourish his ruler, or to cast an affectionate glance upon the MS. of his great poem, which, gracefully tied with red tape arranged in a magnificent bow, lay by him on the desk. On Verty's entrance the poet raised his head, and looked at him curiously. "Well, my fine fellow," he said, "what luck in your wooing?
"As villainous as ever," says the lawyer; "my opinion of Mr. Roundjacket, sir, is, that he is a villain!" Miss Lavinia colors to the temples the Squire nearly bursts with pent-up laughter. "What has he done? A villain did you say?" he asks. "Yes, sir! a wretch!" "Possible?"
O'Brallaghan surveyed Verty's lythe and well-knit figure, clad in its rude forest costume, with patronizing favor. But when Roundjacket informed him, with hauteur, that "his friend, Mr. Verty," would give him an order for three suits: one plain, one handsome, one very rich the great O'Brallaghan became supple and polite; and evidently regarded Mr. Verty as some young lord, in disguise.
The sight of Miss Lavinia slightly removed the wrathful expression, and Mr. Rushton contented himself with bestowing a dreadful scowl on Roundjacket, which that gentleman returned, and then counteracted by an amiable smile.
"An odd fish, young man," he said, shaking his head; "take care not to make him your model. If you want a proper model to imitate, you need not go far. Modesty, which is my weakness, prevents my saying more." And Mr. Roundjacket cleared his throat, and looked dignified.
Stay, is there not a Miss Redbud Summers, daughter of the Squire of said name?" Verty nodded. "A friend of yours?" "Yes," sighed Verty. Mr. Roundjacket smiled. "Perhaps you are making love to her?" he said. "Making love?" asked Verty, "what is that?"
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