The fellow had sense enough to see what she wanted, and he gave it to her.
"Aw—aw—of course there are a few lovely exceptions, you know," says he, a-bowing so low that his eye-glass dropped out of his poor little eye that looked like a green gooseberry without it. "I speak of American women, generally, as having the manners of chambermaids."
I couldn't hold in one minute more. No coffee-grounds, twice soaked, ever riled up like my temper.
"If you find American ladies acting like chambermaids," says I, "it's because they feel compelled to adapt themselves to the company they are in."
Here I bent my head with a low, dignified bow, and waved my fan with a calm but decided motion.
That little humbug of a young lady looked half scared to death. The divinity student ground his glass into his eye, looked at me from head to foot, and says he:
"Aw, aw!" and walked away.
The girl looked after him as if she wanted to cry, but just then a great whirl of music burst from the next room, and I thought the meeting was about to organize, when a tall fellow, with his mustache quirled up like an ox-horn, came tetering up to the young female by my side.
"May I have the honor?" says he.
The girl turned her head sideways, and rolled up her eyes like a pullet drinking.