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‘Mr. Timson!’ said Watkins. ‘After what has passed between us,’ responded Miss Lillerton, still averting her head, ‘you must understand whom I mean; Mr. Timson, the—the—clergyman.’ ‘Mr. Timson, the clergyman!’ ejaculated Watkins Tottle, in a state of inexpressible beatitude, and positive wonder at his own success. ‘Angel! Certainly—this moment!’
‘Say something to her, man,’ urged Parsons again. ‘Confound it! pay her a compliment, can’t you?’ ‘No! not till after dinner,’ replied the bashful Tottle, anxious to postpone the evil moment. ‘Well, gentlemen,’ said Mrs.
‘Oh! it really would have been too broad without,’ replied Watkins Tottle, ‘much too broad!’ ‘He’s mad!’ Parsons whispered his wife, as they entered the drawing-room, ‘mad from modesty.’ ‘Dear me!’ ejaculated the lady, ‘I never heard of such a thing.’ ‘You’ll find we have quite a family dinner, Mr. Tottle,’ said Mrs.
‘Nine and sixpence halfpenny.’ Mr. Gabriel Parsons walked up and down the room for a few seconds, before he could make up his mind to disclose the plan he had formed; he was accustomed to drive hard bargains, but was always most anxious to conceal his avarice. At length he stopped short, and said, ‘Tottle, you owe me fifty pounds.’ ‘I do.’
Tottle, of the circumstance, and that he, in the most kind and delicate terms, offered to assist us in any way, and even undertook to convey this note, which contains the promise I have long sought in vain—an act of kindness for which I can never be sufficiently grateful.’ ‘Good night, Timson,’ said Parsons, hurrying off, and carrying the bewildered Tottle with him.
‘Was that before you were married?’ mildly inquired Mr. Watkins Tottle. ‘Oh! certainly,’ replied Mr. Gabriel Parsons. ‘I have never thought so since; and a precious milksop I must have been, ever to have thought so at all. But, you know, I married Fanny under the oddest, and most ridiculous circumstances possible.’
‘I don’t know,’ said the unfortunate Watkins. ‘I suppose you’ll say this is Fanny’s fault, won’t you?’ inquired Gabriel. ‘I don’t know anything about it,’ replied the bewildered Tottle. ‘Well,’ said Parsons, turning on his heel to go home, ‘the next time you make an offer, you had better speak plainly, and don’t throw a chance away.
‘On Thursday,’ replied Timson,—‘on Thursday morning at half-past eight.’ ‘Never mind, my dear fellow,’ replied Timson, all suavity, shaking hands with Tottle again most heartily, ‘so long as we see you to breakfast, you know—’ ‘Eh!’ said Parsons, with one of the most extraordinary expressions of countenance that ever appeared in a human face. ‘What!’ ejaculated Watkins Tottle, at the same moment.
Parsons, when they sat down to table: ‘Miss Lillerton is one of us, and, of course, we make no stranger of you.’ Mr. Watkins Tottle expressed a hope that the Parsons family never would make a stranger of him; and wished internally that his bashfulness would allow him to feel a little less like a stranger himself. ‘Take off the covers, Martha,’ said Mrs.
Mr. Watkins Tottle looked as if he had certain misgivings of mind. Mr. Gabriel Parsons perceived it, and thought it would be safe to begin the next attack without delay. ‘Now, were you ever in love, Tottle?’ he inquired. Mr. Watkins Tottle blushed up to the eyes, and down to the chin, and exhibited a most extensive combination of colours as he confessed the soft impeachment.
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