Her lips parted and her eyes gleamed. Then she gave me a shrewd glance, for she was no fool, and at last she smiled.
"You are very kind," said she.
"Pooh!" said I, emptying the bottle. "You may say that when I see you this evening and confront 'em."
"Confront 'em," she said.
"D'ye suppose I will not pursue that which I propose?" I asked. "I will see auntie, nunkie and all, and so you may warn 'em. The gentlemanly haberdasher, rip me, will visit 'em to-night, for to beg their niece of 'em."
'Twas on that understanding we parted, though I believe the girl thought me gone in liquor and talking foolishly. But that I was not, as she discovered, for I meant to go through with the jest and help a poor female against her shrew of an aunt at the same time.
So that evening when it had fallen dark, sure enough, I presented myself before the Magpie, clothed very old and sober and with a wig to suit, and knocked for admittance. Well, there were they assembled to meet me (for the wench had done her part), looking very expectant and all in a flutter. There was uncle that was broad and short and of a weak cast of face with a grin on it, and by him was aunt, prim and stiff, but the vinegar of her face sugared over with a smile; and to these were added Cousin Tom, a lubberly big fellow with a booby expression, and a couple more. Why, had I not been used to distinguished company I might have turned white of trembling and bashfulness before them. But as it was, the more the merrier, and, says I, with a congee to aunt,—
"By your leave, madam."
"Sir," says she, "our niece Nancy has acquainted us with your story;" at which, thinks I, "'Egad I'm glad I know her name," the which I had misremembered to ask.
"She hath done me honour, mistress," I replied, polite as a pea. "And since you know why I am here, faith, let us sit down and discuss of it."