"Who can that gentleman be, that's a eyeing me through his glass," sez Miss Josephine Burgess to the 'pothecary, "what harnsome whiskers he's got, did you ever?"
"I don't see anything over genteel in him, any how," sez the 'pothecary a looking sort of oneasy. "I really can't see how you ladies can take a fancy to so much hair."
"But how nicely he's dressed," sez she.
"I aint over fond of shaggy vests and checkered trousers," says the 'pothecary.
"Dear me he's coming this way," sez the milliner all in a twitter,—"I hope he wont think of speaking."
"I hope so too," sez the 'pothecary, a looking as if he'd jest eat a sour lemon, without any sweetening.
The chap come along sort of easy and independent, and stood close by 'em.
"Shan't we go t'other end of the room?" sez the 'pothecary to the milliner, kinder half whispering, and a eyeing the strange chap as savage as a meat-ax. "Not yet," sez the milliner, giving a slantindicular sort of a look at the strange chap. He wasn't a feller to be sneezed at in the way of good looks any how, nor a man that was likely to lose anything by his bashfulness; for it warn't more than three minutes afore he asked the milliner to dance, and walked her out as crank as could be, right afore the 'pothecary's face. Didn't the poor leetle chap look wamble-cropped when he see that. There he stood all alone in a corner, feeling as sick as if he'd swallowed a dose of his own doctor's stuff, and there he had to stand; for arter the tall chap and Miss Josephine Burgess had got through dancing, they sot down together by a winder and begun to look soft sodder at one another, and talk away as chipper as two birds on an apple tree limb in spring time. It didn't do no good for the 'pothecary to rile up and make motions to her—she didn't seem to mind him a bit; so he stood still and grit his teeth, for it seemed to him as if the milliner and the red velvet, besides the account books, the stock in trade, and the hard chink too, was a sliding out of his grip like a wet eel.
"Darn the feller to darnation," sez he, arter he'd bore it as long as he could—and with that he went up to Miss Josephine Burgess, sort of humble, and asked her if it wasn't about time to be a going hum?
The milliner said she wasn't in any hurry about it, and went to talking with the tall chap agin. It was as much as the poor lovyer could do to keep from busting out a crying, or a swearing, he warn't partic'lar which; he felt all struck up of a heap, and went off to his corner agin as lonesome as a goose without a mate.