"Oh, ’twas full of stars, ma'am."
"'Tis certainly a work on fortune-telling. Pray buy it instantly, here is the money."
Back came Betty with the volume, and presently Mrs. Courteen fainted.
Downstairs ran Betty, and upstairs walked Mr. Thomas and Betty.
"’Twas the book as done it," said the latter vehemently.
The offending volume lay face downwards upon the quilted apricock of Mrs. Courteen's lap, so Thomas picked it up and began to read:
| "At the Wells many elegant widows are seen, |
| But no one so modish as Mrs. C******n, |
| Her hoop——" |
So far he read, but, rubicund though he was, modesty was still able to deepen his colour.
"Yes," said Betty, "pray do 'ee read us some more, Mr. Thomas."
"What Jebusite wrote this book? I will smite him and all his works," replied Thomas, flinging the volume into the fire. Whether the odour of burning leather or the profuse drops of Sal Volatile revived the offended lady I do not know, but she instantly sat up and, in a voice tremulous with anxiety, bade her footman call a chair.