It was unanimously decreed that Abel Newt had lost tone. His dress was gradually becoming flashy. Younger sisters, who had heard their elders—who were married now—speak of the fascinating Mr. Newt, perceived that the fascinating Mr. Newt was a little too familiar when he flirted, and that his breath was offensive with spirituous fumes. He was noisy in the gentlemen’s dressing-room. The stories he told there were of such a character, and he told them so loudly, that more than once some husband, whose wife was in the neighboring room, had remonstrated with him. Sligo Moultrie, during one of the winters that he passed in the city after his marriage, had a fierce quarrel with Abel for that very reason. They would have come to blows but that their friends parted them. Mr. Moultrie sent a friend with a note the following morning, and Mr. Newt acknowledged that he had been rude.
In the evening, at General Belch’s, Abel was presented to all the guests. Mr. Ele was happy to remember a previous occasion upon which he had had the honor, etc. Mr. Enos Slugby (Chairman of our Ward Committee, whispered Belch, audibly, as he introduced him) was very glad to know a gentleman who bore so distinguished a name. Every body had a little compliment, to which Abel bowed and smiled politely, while he observed that the residence was much more comfortable than the office of General Belch.
They went into the dining-room and sat down to what Mr. Slugby called “a Champagne supper.” They ate birds and oysters, and drank wine. Then they ate jellies, blanc mange, and ice-cream. Then they ate nuts and fruit, and drank coffee. Then every thing was removed, and fresh decanters, fresh glasses, and a box of cigars were placed upon the table, and the servants were told that they need not come until summoned.
At this point a dry, grave, thin, little old man opened the door. General Belch rose and rushed forward.
“My dear Mr. Bat, I am very happy. Sit here, Sir. Gentlemen, you all know Mr. Bat.”
The company was silent for a moment, and bowed. Abel looked up and saw a man who seemed to be made of parchment, and his complexion, of the hue of dried apples, suggested that he was usually kept in a warm green satchel.
After a little more murmuring of talk around the table, General Belch said, in a louder voice,
“Gentlemen, we have a new friend among us, and a little business to settle to-night. Suppose we talk it over.”
There was a general filling of glasses and a hum of assent.
“I learn,” said the General, whiffing the smoke from his mouth, “that our worthy friend and able representative, Watkins Bodley, is about resigning, in consequence of private embarrassments. Of course he must have a successor.”