have sent several times for their several little ones; and the several servants have been sent away with several evasive answers—for “the little dears are enjoying themselves so much!”—“Mrs. Brown’s compliments to Mrs. Fidgets, and would she permit the little Fidgets to stay just ten minutes longer?” No!—the Fidgety footman is only to depart with them; so he is sent to the servants’ hall, there to wait, whilst snap-dragon is being prepared in the library—that the evening may end with a grand blue-fire tableaux. The room resembles the Black Hole of Calcutta!—Hundreds of little itching fingers are
longing to be amongst that pound of raisins, in spirits—all eager, as imps, for the fiendish sport; the darkness and suspense rendering it very exciting—causing Master Jewel (a model boy), who is “wanted directly,” to make no answer from the sable mass; until, the summons being repeated, he says something that sounds very like “shan’t come!”—and, Master Jewel does not come, until he has had his portion of the fiery food that is flying about in every direction.
During the last hour Cook and John have held a soirée below, to all the neighbouring domestics, who are awaiting to escort home their little masters and mistresses—they are regaling upon ale and sandwiches, in the servants’ hall; whilst that most interesting topic, “every body’s business,” is being discussed:—Mrs. Pest’s maid assuring all, upon her sacred word and honour, that Mrs. Pest is not a angel, or the “Pest-house” a paradise, though it may look pretty over the garden-wall; and, moreover, Mrs. P.’s maid said she were of opinion the public knowed it, too; for t’other night some one painted out the fust
letters, ag’in our door-post—making the direction, at the corner of the lane, “Placid Vale,” read “acid ale” instead,—no compliment, as the maid said, to Mr. “Pest, Pewter, and Co.’s Entire;”—at the same time observing, that it sarved ’em right! And, “as I hope, afore next Heaster, to lose my blessed Virgin Mary name, I’d go—if it wer’n’t for the pale-ale-tory circumstances, I’d warn Missus! It was only yesterday, jist arter Mr. Pest had gone to Brewhus, in Liquorish St., that we had a scrimmage about flounces; and jist as I was a-going to fling my resignation at her—‘tending to go out every evenin’, till the month was up, in a gound zactly like Missus’ own (lilock, with seven flounces)—well, jist when I was on the pint o’ naming the word, I think’d o’ little Ned Pest; and, as I loved the dear little fellow more than a paltry frock, I con’scended to stay!” Here the gardening-groom at the “Snuggery,” opposite, grinned and winked horribly, observing something about little Ned’s being a “surfeit of finery”—finery that had to be shown and aired,—airing begetting the society of aubun viskers and hofficer X, 50!—officers, making Mr. “Snuggery” chuckle amazingly, and grin more—observing hofficers to be all the “kick” now!—At the same time, jerking his thumb in the direction of the party-wall and the Albert, saying, he knew the Captain,—met Boultoff at Bath, where he stayed last season, until the waters were too hot, when he “dried up” (we suppose by drying up, the “Snuggery” meant departed). No one appeared to notice the different name applied to the Captain—or, if they did, said nothing,—except Cook, who observed—her master and the Capting to
be as thick as soup!—That she thought the former green and soft, as over-done spinach, for the Capting cut it very fat at master’s ’spense;—the guvenor ought to save his bacon afore he be done to rags;—if missus ud come in for all the grizzle, she (cook) said she would not stew and fry herself about it.
