Whir, whir, whir! came something, with lightning-like rapidity, over the soft heath. Mr. Toosypegs turned round; and there came Miss Pet herself, flying along like the wind, on her fleet Arabian, her cheeks crimson, her splendid eyes blazing, her red lips smiling; her short, jetty curls flying in the wind she herself raised; her long, raven-black plume just touching her scarlet cheeks; the red rings of flame flashing out in the sunlight from her dazzling eyes and hair. She was bewildering, dazzling, blinding! Mr. Toosypegs had his breath completely taken away as his heart had long since been, and in that moment fell more deeply, deplorably, and helplessly in love than ever. Every idea was instantaneously put to flight by this little dark, bright bird-of-paradise—this blinding little grenade, all fire, and jets, and sparkles.
“Halloa, Orlando! Your very humble servant!” shouted Pet, as she laughingly dashed up, touching her hat gallantly to the gentleman. “How does your imperial highness find yourself this glorious day?”
“A—pretty miserable, thank you. A—I mean I ain’t very well, Miss Pet,” said Mr. Toosypegs, stammering, and breaking down.
“Not very well, eh? Why, what’s the matter? Not cholera-morbus, or measles or a galloping-decline, or anything—is it?” said Pet, in a tone of deepest anxiety. “The gods forbid anything should happen to you, Orlando, for the sake of all Judestown girls whose hearts you have broken! You do look sort of blue—a prey to ‘green and yellow melancholy,’ I shouldn’t wonder! Make Miss Priscilla apply a mustard-poultice when you get home—it doesn’t matter where—and go to bed with your feet in a tub of hot water, and I’ll bet you anything you’ll be as well as ever, if not considerably better, in the morning. I’m going to take in nursing some of these days, and ought to know!”
“Miss Pet, it’s real good of you to advise me, and I’m very much obliged to you,” said Mr. Toosypegs, gratefully; “but, at the same time, I don’t believe mustard-poultices and tubs of hot water would do me the first mite of good. No, Miss Pet, not all the hot water in all the hot springs that ever was, could do me the least good,” said Mr. Toosypegs, firmly. “I’m in that state that nothing can do me any good—no, no, nothing!” repeated Mr. Toosypegs, with increased firmness. “It’s all internal, you see, Miss Pet.”
“Oh! is it?” said Pet, puckering up her mouth as if she was going to whistle. “You ought to take something, then, and drive it out! Hot gin, or burnt brandy and cayenne is good—excessively good—though not so nice to take as some things I’ve tasted. Just you take a pint or so of hot burnt brandy and cayenne to-night, before going to bed, and you’ll see it will be all out in a severe rash early to-morrow morning. I’m advising you for your good, Orlando; for I feel like a mother to you—in fact, I feel a motherly interest in all the nice young men in Judestown and the surrounding country generally, for any extent you please, and am always ready to give them no end of good advice, if they only take it.”
“It’s real good of you, Miss Pet I’m sure,” said Mr. Toosypegs, wincing, as the very thought of the hot brandy and cayenne brought tears to his eyes, “and I would be real glad to take your advice, and brandy, only what ails me can’t be brought out in a rash. No, Miss Pet, all the brandy from here to Brandywine,” said Mr. Toosypegs—with a hazy idea that all ardent spirits came from that place—“couldn’t do it. It’s real good of you, though, to recommend it; and I’m very much obliged to you, I’m sure.”
“Well, really, I’m afraid I’ll have to give the case up, though I hate to do it. What’s the symptoms, Orlando?”
“The what, Miss Pet?”
“The symptoms, you know—I don’t exactly understand the word myself; and I forgot my dictionary when I was coming away. It means, though, the feelings or something that way—how do you feel as a general thing?”