“That seems to be his fancy just now.”
“What an extraordinary taste!”
“You know, he is educated on a System.”
One fast young male Forey allied the System and the cake in a miserable pun. Adrian, a hater of puns, looked at him, and held the table silent, as if he were going to speak; but he said nothing, and the young gentleman vanished from the conversation in a blush, extinguished by his own spark.
Mrs. Doria peevishly exclaimed, “Oh! fish-cake, I suppose! I wish he understood a little better the obligations of relationship.”
“Whether he understands them, I can’t say,” observed Adrian, “but I assure you he is very energetic in extending them.”
The wise youth talked innuendoes whenever he had an opportunity, that his dear relative might be rendered sufficiently inflammable by and by at the aspect of the cake; but he was not thought more than commonly mysterious and deep.
“Was his appointment at the house of those Grandison people?” Mrs. Doria asked, with a hostile upper-lip.
Adrian warmed the blindfolded parties by replying, “Do they keep a beadle at the door?”
Mrs. Doria’s animosity to Mrs. Grandison made her treat this as a piece of satirical ingenuousness. “I daresay they do,” she said.