The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 166: what you’re looking at

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er ee ee a ee eee ee <Se ere eer R t aere —- | 160 well figure on her mistress’s supper table for this particular occasion. She then glanced half smil- ingly and half apprehensively at Mrs. Macaulay, to assure herself that this little prudential arrange- ment met the worthy lady’s approbation; and the quick but scarcely perceptible nod which her mistress gave, placed her perfectly at her ease. ‘““ Now, ladies and gentlemen, pray be seated,” said Mrs. Macaulay. ‘‘ You:see I treat you with- out ceremony: it is merely a humble repast—but such as it is, you are quite welcome :’’—and as she thus spoke, she glanced askance at Mrs. Dumpling to see how tbat lady regarded the display. But so far from Mrs. Dumpling being ready through envy or jealousy to bite her own head off —as Mrs. Macaulay had ere now anticipated— the sort of readiness she did exhibit, was a strong yearning to commence an attack on the sausages and mashed potatoes. ‘The company seated them- selves; and to Mrs. Macaulay’s infinite relict, the oysters, so far from being in general request, were only rendered available for the appetites of a few— so that she had no fear of an insulfliciency of that particular portion of the repast. “What for you, Mr. Chubb?” inquired Mrs. Macaulay, when she had seen that the ladies were becomingly cared for. “Shall it be pie? I can recommend it.” « Amen,” responded the parish clerk, who had just emptied his tumbler of ale and had beckoned the girl to refill it. “ And you, Captain Bluff?” said Mrs. Macau- lay, with her most amiable smile. Sassengers and meshed taturs for me, ma’am,” was the Captain’s response. ‘“ Always begin with the hot things and wind up with cold uns. Leave the coldest till last—cos why they lays easier on t’other foundation. So Ill have sassengers fust : then I’ll pitch into the briled fowl: arterwards Vl taste the meat-pie; and I'll wind up with a dozen or so of them hoysters—with maybe a bit of the thingumbob on t’other side of the table :” thus alluding to the fruit-tart. There was now a pause, of which Mrs. Macau- lay took advantage to say in an impressive manner, “Jane, you have forgotten to put the port and sherry on the table.” Here the worthy hostess again looked furtively at Mrs. Dumpling: but this excellent lady was so busy with the food upon her plate, that she had really no time nor thought for that envy and jealousy which Mrs. Macaulay had been anxious to provoke; and therefore the absence of those feelings on Mrs. Dumpling’s part rather chagrined and annoyed Mrs. Macaulay than otherwise. The wine was produced: and Mrs. Macaulay begged the ladies and gentlemen to take care of themselves. “JT don’t know whether you like port that is fruity, Mr. Chubb,” she said; “but my wine- - merchant assured me that this was of the very best quality; and I don’t mind whispering in your ear that it is the same which he supplies to the Duke of Wellington’s table.” This whispered assurance was however loud enough to be caught by the ear of every one pre- sent ; and Mrs, Dumpling, who was at the moment handing her plate for a third supply of sausages and mashed potatoes, had leisure to bridle up and exchange a malicious look with Mrs, Sifkin—as THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. much as to imply that this was a mere romance of their dearly beloved and excellent hostess about her wine. Mrs. Macaulay, who saw what was passing, nevertheless affected to be perfectly inuo- cent on the subject; though she inwardly vowed to cut Mrs. Dumpling from the very moment after their shaking hands when the lour for departure should come—and she was equally resolute to pick another quarrel with Mrs. Sifkin on the following day. “Try the sherry, Mr. Ashton,” she said, still maintaining all the winning urbanity proper to the hospitable founder of a feast. “ By the bye how very extraordinary! this is some of the identical wine which is supplied to your jriend the Duke of Marchmont. You surely musé re- cognise it? You mast have tasted the very same quality at his Grace’s table ?” Now, in making this earnest appeal to our youthful hero, Mrs. Macaulay had two distinct objects to gain. One was to elicit such an answer as would confirm the impression she wished to convey about the excellence of her wine; and the other was to stand on a pedestal in the estimation of her guests at thus being on such intimate terms with the friend and companion of a Duke. But Christian was both too honest and too imexpe- rienced in the ways of the world, to be coaxed and wheedled into a falsehood for the behoof of Mrs. Macaulay’s pride and vanity: so he answered with great ingenuousness and naiveté, “ Really I am no judge of wine—though this seems sweeter than any sherry I have ever tasted before; and as for the Duke’s table, of course I don’t dine at it— I take my meals with the steward.” Mrs. Dumpling and Mrs. Sifkin exchanged rapid but malicious glances; and the Miss Chow- leys tossed their heads, as much as to infer that Christian was nothing so very great after all, and that they were not quite sure he was anything better than their uncle who was a Duke’s butler, or their ancestor who had been a Duke’s coach- man. Mrs. Macaulay, for the moment thrown into confusion by young Ashton’s unsophisticated response, appeared to be suddenly seized with an inclination to dive deep iuto the mysteries of the pie before her; and fortunately Captain Bluff came out with something comical in the course of a minute, so that the conversation was turned and Mrs. Macaulay recovered her good spirits. The comestibles were disposed of—and literally so, for every dish was emptied, Mrs. Dumpling eating enough for any six moderate feeders, and Captain Bluwif partaking of everything, finishing the oysters, and winding up with a plate of apple- tart. The brandy was now placed upon the board; the conversation- grew more animated: Captain Bluff became more and more uproarious, and flung amatory glances upon the elder Miss Chowley. ‘The consequence was that this young lady, who for the last sixteen years—indeed ever since she was sixteen—had been looking out for a husband, felt assured she was in a fair way to ob- tain one at last; and when the Captain, under the influence of the bad wine, frequent tumblers of ale, and his second glass of brandy-and-water, trod accidentally with his heavy boot upon her toe —at the same time (but this was purposely done) whispering some joke about the baby-linen ware- house—Miss Chowley felt that her conquest was lt a A eA A CO) mM NOOO KS, (EO)