“You can silence such an aspersion, madam, by letting it be known that you extended your friendship to me.”
“More quibbling? I swear that ’tis a relief to have a simple chat with young Mr. Linley, after all this battledore and shuttlecock with you wits. Oh yes, Tom is a charming boy.”
“I am told that he can illustrate the progress of a passion from Genesis to the Revelation.”
“Ay, sir; but with the Apocryphal books left out.”
“You can hear passages from them read out in the Abbey.”
“He has made me wild to learn the violin. But, I fear, alas! that ’twill be too much for me.”
“Faith, Mrs. Abington, ’twill not be for want of strings to your bow,” cried Dick, dropping the tone of the man of fashion and assuming the good fellowship of the Irishman, even to his manner of raising his hat and bowing; he hoped that the hint would be taken by the Irish chairmen to lower the roof and resume their journey.
Mrs. Abington put up her hand to the roof.
“Tom is a charming boy,” she cried, smiling the enigmatical smile of Miss Prue. “Oh yes; ’twas you who said that his heart was buried in his violin.”
“I perceive that ’twas not a safe place of sepulture,” said Dick.