“Wish I could say the same,” said his comrade, hitching himself up on the corner of the table. “Maybe you are thinking of another kind of suit? I see my brilliant wit is thrown away on you! but you’ve heard of a law suit, eh, and of a love suit? He’s blushing, I declare—he can’t look me in the face. By Jove, he’s in love!”
“Look here, Jack,” said Tom, who certainly had become a shade redder, “can you stop your tomfoolery for once, and listen to me rationally for five minutes? I’m—ahem—I’m—thinking—of—getting married!”
At this announcement, Jack bounded off the table, rushed to the door, and placing both hands to his mouth, gave a wild view halloa that made the neighbouring compounds ring, and threw “Topper,” the terrier, into a paroxysm of excitement.
Having thus relieved his feelings, he turned quite gravely to his friend, drew up a chair, and leaning both elbows on the table, said—
“Tell us all about it, old chappie, but break it to me very gently, if it’s one of our Blazapore spins.”
“No, no; no fear—she is at home.”
“I suppose your new-made honours have put THIS into your head?” said Jack, surveying his chum with gaping half-contemptuous amazement.
“No—it has been in my head this long time; but, you see, I could not afford to marry.”
“Has she no coin?”
“Not a penny.”