MR. POTTS ASSUMES A STRIKING ATTITUDE.
Mr. Potts gazed up into her face with his heart in his mouth:—it had been better for him, just then to have had his coffee there. A scalding sensation made him look down, when to his horror he found that he had been quietly emptying his cup into his hat, and had finished by depositing the last of its scalding contents upon his knees. He gave a start of agony and horror, when the treacherous chair, upon the edge of which he had been perched, slid out from under him, and he found himself seated upon the floor. The fragile china, which he held in his hand, was shattered into a score of fragments, while his hat, in falling, came in contact with the lady, who was standing before him, and bestowed its contents in the most liberal manner upon her snowy dress.
Mary Briggs was as sweet a girl as the city held on that New Year’s Day, but even she could not prevent a look, half of vexation, and half of amusement, from passing over her countenance. The frown was but transient, and soon passed off into an expression of sympathy for the condition of the luckless gentleman at her feet. Mr. Potts, however, did not perceive the change. With a sudden spring he made for the door of the room. Two strides more brought him to the street door, which the servant was just then closing behind a new visitor. He rushed through like a whirlwind, without noticing their astonished looks, and shut the door after him with a report like a thunder-clap.
