“Let us convince ourselves!” cried the captain; and the military gentlemen, with a somewhat abrupt and unceremonious bow to the Matson family, walked away together, arm-in-arm.
“Well, I never!” exclaimed the eldest Miss Matson, now tossing her head more indignantly than on any previous occasion, yet looking wistfully after the two really handsome and elegant, though conceited and coxcombical young officers, whose fine figures were rapidly receding along the parade.
“I could not have supposed that Captain Phinnikin would have been guilty of such rudeness!” said Miss Julia.
“Oh! as for the captain—I was prepared for any thing with him,” observed Miss Anna-Maria: “but it’s Mr. Pink that I’m astonished at!”
“I am sure the captain is the best behaved of the two,” exclaimed Julia.
“That shows your ignorance, Miss,” said Anna-Maria, tartly.
“I know what’s genteel as well as you, I should hope,” retorted Julia.
“Don’t be cross, my love,” said Anna-Maria, affecting a soothing tone.
“And don’t you pretend to know better than one two years older than yourself,” cried Julia. “As for you,” she continued, addressing herself to her eldest sister, “I was quite surprised to hear how you went on about the Browns and the Thompsons. How foolish we should all look if it were found out that Uncle Ben was a pawnbroker in Lambeth Marsh——”
“Hush! girls—hush! Drat your tongues—how they are going!” interrupted Mrs. Matson, in a hoarse and hasty whisper.