“Oh! sure of it; I stripped her the other day, and examined her all over; she’s as sound as ever.”
Nicholas started, and stared Hilton in the face; while Newton, who perceived their separate train of thought, tittered with delight.
“What are you talking of?” at last observed Nicholas.
“Of the sloop, to be sure,” replied Hilton.
“I rather imagine you were come to consult about Mr Thompson’s effects,” observed Mrs Forster, angrily—“rather a solemn subject, instead of—”
“Ha, ha, ha!” ejaculated the curate, who had just taken the equivoque which had occasioned Newton’s mirth.
“He, he, he!”
This last merriment of Mr Dragwell appeared to the lady to be such a pointed insult to her, that she bounded out of the room, exclaiming, “that an alehouse would have been a more suitable rendezvous.”
The curate twiddled his thumbs, as the eyes of all the party followed the exit of Mrs Forster; and there were a few moments of silence.
“Don’t you find her a pleasant little craft, Forster?” said Hilton, addressing Newton.