“Good evening, Mrs. Potiphar,” cried the Sennaar Minister, rising suddenly, and running toward the door. We heard him next under the window going off in great shouts of laughter, and whistling in the intervals, “Hail Columbia!” What shocking habits he has for a minister! I don’t know how it was that Mr. Potiphar was in such good humor; but he promised his wife that she should go to Paris, and that she might select her party. So she invited us all who were at the table. Mrs. Gnu declined: but I knew mamma would let me go with the Potiphars.
“Dear Pot.,” said Mrs. P., “we shall be gone so short a time, and shall be so busy, and hurrying from one place to another, that we had better leave little Freddy behind. Poor, dear little fellow, it will be much better for him to stay.”
Mr. P. looked a little sober at this; but he said nothing except to ask:
“Shall you all be ready to sail in a fortnight?”
“Certainly, in a week,” we all answered.
“Well, then, we must hurry home to prepare,” said he. “I shall write for state-rooms for us in Monday’s boat, Polly.”
“Very well; that’s a dear Pot.,” said she; and as we all rose she went up to him, and took his arm tenderly. It was an unusual sight: I never saw her do it before. Mrs. Gnu said to me:
“Well, really, that’s rather peculiar. I think people had better make love in private.”
“No, by Jove,” whispered Mr. Boosey to me; “and I am afraid he had drank freely, as I have once or twice before heard that he did; but the world is such a gossip!—no, she doesn’t let her good works of that kind shine before men.”
“Why, Mr. Boosey,” said I, “how can you?”