“And sweet Bessy! It will be a dreadful blow! Such a gentle creature,” said Monica, glancing at her pearls.
“Why, she can’t come to positive want, you know,” said Hodmadod; and then, looking about him in his wise way, he added—“I don’t think she’ll come to want, do you? She’s accomplished, you know, and when I say accomplished”—
“I know,” said Basil bitterly, his eye flashing. “I know; turn governess—an upper housemaid, with privilege to go without caps. Teach children to gargle their little throats with the gamut. Of course, she can’t starve. But I beg your pardon, Mr. Candituft, people did say you were in love with Bessy.”
“I always admired Miss Carraways, but love—never, sir, never,” said Candituft with solemn emphasis; and Monica again looked at her pearls, and serenely smiled.
“Well, I only wish she’d have me,” said Basil. “I never did think I should go the way of most flesh—but as matters have turned out, I’d marry Bessy myself.”
Mr. Jericho rose with great dignity from his seat. He looked about him, as though bespeaking all attention for the coming utterance. When he deemed the company sufficiently toned down to appreciate the value of his words, he looked sternly at Basil, and said—“I cannot consent to remain in the room and listen to such folly—such headlong folly.” With this, our Man made of Money majestically retired.
“Better not drive me desperate,” said the youth; “better not, or I’ll marry her, and—to get a bit of honest bread—disgrace the family. Shouldn’t at all mind sweeping a crossing in diamond studs, mahogany stick and lavender broom. Elegance in distress. Must melt a discerning public. Ha! ha!” and the young man laughed very savagely.
“Basil, I must say it—your conduct is most extravagant,” cried Mrs. Jericho. “Marry, indeed!”
“Why not? As Bessy can make satin pincushions, and I can sell ’em, my wife will serve the family cheap, my dear lady, if only for old acquaintance. Ha! ha!”
“Don’t be foolish, Basil. For my own part,” said Mrs. Jericho, “I would make any sacrifice for the poor things.”