"I beg your pardon," interrupted Grimaldi; "that is not the lady's name."
"No!" exclaimed Dubois. "Why, I could have sworn it was Miss Hughes."
"You would have sworn wrong, then," replied he. "The lady's name was Hughes once, I grant; but on Friday last I changed it to Grimaldi."
His friends were greatly surprised at this intelligence; but they lost no time in disseminating it throughout the theatre. Congratulations poured in upon him; and so great was the excitement occasioned by the fact of "Joe Grimaldi's marriage" becoming known, that the manager, after vainly endeavouring to proceed with the rehearsal, gave up the task, and dismissed the company for that morning. In the evening they had a supper at the theatre to commemorate the event; and on the following Sunday, Joe gave a dinner to the carpenters of the theatre, for the same purpose. In the long-run all the members of the establishment, from the highest to the lowest, participated in the long-expected happiness of their single-hearted and good-natured comrade.
In the summer of this year, he lost a guinea wager in a somewhat ludicrous manner—in a manner sufficiently ludicrous to justify in this place the narration of the joke which gave rise to it. He was acquainted at that time with a very clever and popular writer, who happened to have occasion to pass through Gravesend on the same day as Joe had to go there; and, as they met shortly before, they agreed to travel in a post-chaise and share the expense between them. They arranged to start early in the morning, as Grimaldi had to play at Sadler's Wells at night, and did so.
The journey was very pleasant, and the hours passed quickly away. His companion, who was a witty and humorous fellow, was in great force upon the occasion, and, exerting all his powers, kept him laughing without intermission. About three miles on the London side of Dartford, the friend, whose buoyant and restless spirits prevented his sitting in any one position for a minute, began incessantly poking his head out of one or other of the chaise windows, and making various remarks on the landscape, and the persons or vehicles passing to and fro. While thus engaged, he happened to catch sight of a man on horseback, about a quarter of a mile behind, who was travelling in the same direction with themselves, and was coming up after the chaise at a rapid pace.
"Look, Joe!" he said; "see that fellow behind! Well mounted, is he not?"
Grimaldi looked back, and saw the man coming along at a fast trot. He was a stout, hearty fellow, dressed like a small farmer, as he very probably was, and was riding a strong horse, of superior make, good pace, and altogether an excellent roadster.
"Yes, I see him," was his reply. "He's well enough, but I see nothing particular about him or the horse either."
"Nor is there anything particular about either of them that I am aware of," answered his companion; "but wouldn't you think, judging from the appearance of his nag, and the rate at which he is riding, that he would pass our chaise in a very short time?"