“A nice time of year,” said I.
“Ah, ha,” said he; “but perhaps you are enough of a classical scholar, Mrs. Cheerlove, to have heard something of ‘res augusta domi.’”
“I have heard the expression,” said I.
“Ah,—you don’t deceive me in that way,” said he; “I’ve heard of Mrs. Cheerlove’s acquirements. You read by stealth, and blush to find it fame.”
“I thought fame was acquired by writing rather than by reading,” said I.
The absurd man bowed, as if I had meant to compliment him; for editing the County Advertiser, I suppose! Oh dear!
Luckily for me, Mrs. Ringwood came in, wearing the very smart cap I had seen her manufacturing on a previous occasion.
“Oh, I’m so glad to see you!” said she, hastening towards me, all smiles. “I take it so kind of you!”
Then I asked how the baby was, and she told me he was cutting his teeth, and went into long details, naturally interesting to her, and very well to tell to me; but that might as well have been spared, I thought, in the presence of Mr. Ringwood. I wondered he did not walk off to his office. Instead of which, he stood, shifting from one foot to the other, running over the paper, and making it crackle prodigiously as he unfolded and refolded it; and at length he said, somewhat abruptly—