“No, sir; but it’s odd how folks will force disagreeable knowledge upon us; crab-apples, sir, that we must eat, and defy the stomach-ache.”
“Basil!” exclaimed Mrs. Jericho, in her very deepest voice.
“I suppose,” said the unchecked Basil, “you’ve not heard—no, I’m sure you haven’t, by the holiday looks of you all. I’m certain, Mr. Candituft, you’ve heard nothing disagreeable, otherwise you’d have been alarming to look at.”
“Dear Mr. Pennibacker”—and Candituft clasped his hands, “what has happened?”
“Ha! you’ve something like a heart, you have; so fresh, and so full now. Some people’s hearts are shrunk in them like dried nuts. ’Pon my life, you can hear ’em rattle as they walk.”
“Mr. Pennibacker!” said Jericho solemnly.
“Sir!” said Basil, folding his arms, and drawing himself up.
“You will keep these similes for your associates. There are ladies and gentlemen here,” said Jericho.
“Very good, sir; I’m easy of belief; wasn’t made for a martyr. No, sir,” said Basil, “warranted not to burn.”
“My dear Basil, for all this levity,” said Mrs. Jericho, “I can see there’s something wrong. What is it?”