"I am honoured, madam," said I with a congee again, "to have been of some small service to you."
"The scoundrels fell upon us by Windmill Street upon our way home," she continued, with a pretty shudder. "Sir Philip stepped out to face them. I begged he would not, but he is very obstinate."
"Faith, miss, what could he do less?" said I.
"We might have whipped up and so escaped them," says she, with an air of some petulance now, "but that our cowardly man took to his heels and left us helpless."
As she spoke she eyed me with more coldness, I thought, than the occasion warranted, for all she was so shook, and though she had made me her compliments quite prettily, she had spoke as if she were thinking of something else; which, as you will conceive, nettled me not a little. It was as if she wished me away, for she fell silent and cast glances at the chamber clock that hung at the wall. But seeing I had been at the pains for her and the old fat man, why, says I to myself, rip me if I will go like any discharged lackey. I will tire her out, says I, and let Beauty yawn or pay in gratitude. So I sat on in the saloon, making conversation as it seemed fit to me to serve one of her class and age. No doubt she was tired, for the hour was about two in the morning, yet her pretty yawns, which she feigned to cover with her hands, vexed me. But indeed I might have gone forth and left her there and then for very shame as would have been natural, had it not been that an excuse came to aid me in a message from Sir Philip, who had recovered under the attentions of the surgeon. He had learned, it seemed, that his rescuer was in the house and begged that he might be allowed to thank him in person presently. This set me in feather, but miss in the sulks, as I thought, which maddened me the more that the hussy should prove so ungrateful, particularly at a time when she should be showing concern at her adventure or, at least, grief for her guardian. Yet as I watched her, perish me but she charmed me with her petulant prettiness the more. Such a dainty head and a mouth so pert and alluring I had never yet clapped eyes on, which I say for all that followed.
There, then, were we set, awaiting Sir Philip, in the big chamber, she yawning without disguise, and me racking my wits to attract her. I'll warrant she must have taken an idea of me as a buck of Town, although she feigned coldness then. I spoke of the play and the Court, of both of which I knew secrets, and I talked on a level proper to the sex.
"D'ye not love the play, miss?" says I.
"Lard, it is pretty well," says she, and covered up a yawn with ostentation.
"I doubt not but you have seen Love in a Tub?" said I, for I would not be beat by her impudence.