"I dare say now," pursues he, "that you had forgot it?"
"Oh no, Mr. Honeywood,—my Dear, I mean," says my Mother, wiping her eyes, "I remembered it before I got out of Bed—and the last thing overnight, too. I'd no Notion your Memory would be so good, my dear."
"Well," says he, "it seems we each did the other Injustice, this Time—a good Thing if we never do so any more. But I remembered it yesterday, and bought you a little Trifle, in Token of it."
"I am sure I am much obliged to you, my Dear," says my Mother. "Pray what is it?"
"You shall see what you shall see—you shall see what you shall see," repeats he very deliberately, proceeding to take the Silver Paper off sundry little Figures, as Peter disengaged them from the Straw—"The five Senses, my Dear—the greatest Bargain I ever knew."
My poor Mother lifted up her Hands and Eyes. "At your old Tricks again, Mr. Honeywood," said she softly.
"Old Tricks!" repeated he, with the Air of an injured Man; "why, these are the most exquisite little Gems you ever saw! A Nobleman could not make a more delicate Present to his Mistress.—Look at this charming little Creature stroking her Lapdog ... and this high-bred Toast taking a Pinch of Snuff, this Lady of Quality sipping Tokay, and this Opera-belle ready to swoon with Extasy at Bononcini—where are your Eyes, my Dear?"
"Ah, Mr. Honeywood, you know the old Saying, 'Please the Eye and plague the Heart.'"
"Plague my Heart, then!" cries he in rising Dudgeon, "if you are not the most hard to please of any Woman alive. Why, a Peer bade against me!"