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Updated: May 17, 2025
Gabriel Parsons gave his friend an admonitory tread on the toe. Here was a clear hint that the sooner he ceased to be a bachelor and emancipated himself from such penalties, the better. Mr. Watkins Tottle viewed the observation in the same light, and challenged Mrs. Parsons to take wine, with a degree of presence of mind, which, under all the circumstances, was really extraordinary.
‘Miss Lillerton,’ said Gabriel, ‘may I have the pleasure?’ ‘I shall be most happy.’ ‘Tottle, will you assist Miss Lillerton, and pass the decanter. ‘Tottle, were you ever in Suffolk?’ inquired the master of the house, who was burning to tell one of his seven stock stories. ‘No,’ responded Watkins, adding, by way of a saving clause, ‘but I’ve been in Devonshire.’
‘Have I done it!’ said Watkins Tottle. ‘Hush—I’m going to the clergyman.’ ‘No!’ said Parsons. ‘How well you have managed it!’ ‘Where does Timson live?’ inquired Watkins. ‘At his uncle’s,’ replied Gabriel, ‘just round the lane. He’s waiting for a living, and has been assisting his uncle here for the last two or three months.
‘Don’t you think it would have been much better if I had left you in that wretched hole I found you in this morning?’ retorted Parsons bluntly. ‘Well—well—I only made a suggestion,’ said poor Watkins Tottle, with a deep sigh.
Watkins Tottle; ‘she could not possibly have behaved in a more dignified manner. What did you do?’ ‘Do?—Frank took dummy; and I won sixpence.’ ‘But, didn’t you apologise for hurting her feelings?’ ‘Devil a bit. Next morning at breakfast, we talked it over. She contended that any reference to a flannel petticoat was improper;—men ought not to be supposed to know that such things were.
Parsons, sir; he’s not exactly writing a sermon, but he is practising the violoncello in his own bedroom, and gave strict orders not to be disturbed.’ ‘Say I’m here,’ replied Gabriel, leading the way across the garden; ‘Mr. Parsons and Mr. Tottle, on private and particular business.’ They were shown into the parlour, and the servant departed to deliver his message.
‘Don’t you think it would have been much better if I had left you in that wretched hole I found you in this morning?’ retorted Parsons bluntly. ‘Well—well—I only made a suggestion,’ said poor Watkins Tottle, with a deep sigh.
Gabriel Parsons sat chatting comfortably enough, until the conclusion of the second bottle, when the latter, in proposing an adjournment to the drawing-room, informed Watkins that he had concerted a plan with his wife, for leaving him and Miss Lillerton alone, soon after tea. ‘I say,’ said Tottle, as they went up-stairs, ‘don’t you think it would be better if we put it off till-till-to-morrow?’
Watkins Tottle thought the fair creature had spoken. ‘I beg your pardon,’ said he. ‘Eh?’ ‘I thought you spoke.’ ‘No.’ ‘Oh!’ ‘There are some books on the sofa, Mr. Tottle, if you would like to look at them,’ said Miss Lillerton, after the lapse of another five minutes.
Tottle, I know you’ll excuse me.’ If Tottle had been a free agent, he would have allowed no one to leave the room on any pretence, except himself. As it was, however, he was obliged to look cheerful when Parsons quitted the apartment. He had scarcely left, when Martha put her head into the room, with—‘Please, ma’am, you’re wanted.’ Mrs.
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