Mrs. Jericho drew a deep, deep sigh, and tenderly pressed the hero in her arms.
“Don’t sigh, ma’am,” said the youth, “don’t sigh; for times are bad, and bobbin’s getting dearer.” Mrs. Jericho tapped the young gentleman on his cheek. “To business, as the sun said when he rose late—to business, my dear madam. What does that ruffian-in-law answer to my just proposal?”
“Basil, really, my dear Basil, I cannot listen: whatever Mr. Jericho’s faults may be, if I can endure them—if I can be silent—at least I may expect my children”—
“Not at all, my dear lady, not at all. Your children never said a word to the bargain. They only looked on while you were sold. They have all the freedom of English subjects, and may abuse your husband ad libitum. I do nothing rashly, dear madam; I’ve inquired into the law, and I know it. My allegiance, my dear lady, is due to my own buried father; and as I’m told, he was a gentleman”—
“Basil, don’t—pray don’t! You bring him up before me. Ha! Basil, your father was a man.”
“No doubt of it, my dear lady; no doubt of it, my revered mother;” and the young gentleman, with really a touch of grace, bent his head, and raised his mother’s hand to his lips. “Would shoot the fellow, my dear lady, who doubted it. Well, why did you hook-and-eye yourself to the individual up stairs? Why were you induced to drop upon the golden name of Pennibacker the tin extinguisher of Jericho? As Hamlet somewhere says, why did you leave that Primrose Hill of clover, to go to grass on Wormwood Scrubs?”
“I entreat you, Basil—I supplicate, my dearest boy, that you desist! You”—
“All right, my dear lady, all right, and got the receipt. What I meant to say was this. You sacrificed yourself for the good of your family?” And Basil Pennibacker, with wrinkled forehead, looked inquiringly about, gesticulating as though chewing his emotion. “Didn’t you?”
“I did, Basil, I did; but don’t grieve for that—I can be resigned; I have been resigned.”
“Like a tame lamb,” said Basil, bursting into metaphor, “like a tame lamb you wreathed your brow with orange flowers, and in the very handsomest manner gave yourself away. Can I forget it? Ought I to forget it? Ought my sisters to forget it? Never. You married our destroyer-in-law—pardon my feelings, my dear madam; as your dutiful son I must call him so: you married our cannibal-in-law, to make the fortunes of your innocent orphans? Did you not?”