"You seem well endowed," said the grocer.
"Ay, and 'tis all at the disposal of Miss Nancy, when I am in my gloomy tomb," said I.
But the grocer whispered to the widow, and she to aunt, and they glanced askance at me. So, as matters were not going forward to my taste, I got up and said I,—
"It seems that suspicions rule here. I am the target of eyes. Rip me, I carry not my wares to a market that fancies me not, and so I will bid you good evening."
But that shook them. "Stay, sir," says the aunt, "I am sure we may be pardoned if we hesitate to lose one so dear to us. 'Tis a new idea, and we must get used to it."
"Why," said I, smiling, for I could see the drift of her thoughts, "there is no haste. You shall satisfy yourself of what I promise. 'Tis but the preliminary to my design. I will not pluck your partridge from you roughly—not I. But I would have her remain with you during my preparations, and only ask that I may present her with that which shall fit her out as becomes one who is to do honour to my house and me."
And with that I opened the purse and counted out ten golden guineas.
Miss Nancy gazed wide-eyed, and there was a little silence among the others, save that uncle started and rubbed his eyes, and cried, "The devil!"
But 'twas enough for them. Auntie melted like a snowball in the sun; the grocer pursed up his lips; and the widow regarded me with wonder. Booby, in his corner, gave vent to a silly chuckle.
"Well, that's fair," said uncle hastily, and, at that, supper being ready, I was invited to join them.