“Mrs. Carter—Mrs. Carter, just come and give this skirt a pull, won’t you? I feel as if corked up in a junk-bottle. Confound all your parties, and everything else that takes a fellow out of his frock-coat!”
“Why, Carter, dear, it’s a lovely fit. Of course you must expect to be tightened up a little at such a time. Only look at me, would you ever have believed my waist could have been brought down to that, yet I don’t complain. There are things, Carter, for which we must suffer.”
Carter wiped his red face with a towel, there being nothing else convenient, at which his wife cried out, “Why, Carter!” and ran to a drawer, from which she brought a handkerchief of the finest linen, with an embroidered monogram in the corner. Over this she dashed a liberal quantity of perfume from a scent-bottle, which she shook as if it had been a pepper-box. Then she brought out a point lace barb, parted over a white, silk cravat, which she tied around his stout, red neck, leaving a kiss on his cheek when it was arranged to suit her.
All this had its effect. In spite of his coat, Carter softened and became amiable. His hair had been nicely curled at the ends, a thing he had submitted to for the first time in his life, but, on the whole, rather liked. The diamond studs in his bosom glittered like fire-flies, and his watch-chain coiled down his white vest like a golden serpent hiding its head in his pocket.
“Now, my dear,” said Mrs. Carter, “just stand back and let me look at you.”
“Well, Mrs. Carter, what have you got to say about it?”
Here Mr. Carter put a thumb into each armhole of his white vest, and posed himself superbly.
Mrs. Carter took a general observation, drew nearer, smoothed the sleeves of his coat with her plump hand, and observed that better-looking men might be found in the great city of New York, but she had never set eyes on them. At which Carter, being a little doubtful of himself, blushed rosily, and attempted a dancing step, which proved an ignominious failure, his boots being as tight as his coat.
“My dear,” said Mrs. Carter, busying her hands with the neck-tie again. “Do you know I’ve been thinking of a pleasant surprise for you—a very pleasant surprise?”
“Indeed, Mrs. Carter, you have given me one in this party, which I shan’t get over in six months. What is it to be this time?”