“How funny it is!” said Tom in a rage, eyeing James as if he could have eaten him. “Bad luck to all poetry and poetasters! By the 'tarnal war, I wish every poet, from Homer down, was put into a mortar and pounded to death!”
James poured forth expressions of sorrow for the mischance; and extremely ludicrous it was to see one man making apologies for trying to pay his friend a compliment; his friend swearing at him for his civility, and the bailiff grinning at them both.
In this triangular dilemma we will leave them for the present.
CHAPTER XLVI
Edward O'Connor, on hearing from Gustavus of the old dowager's disappearance from Neck-or-Nothing Hall, joined in the eager inquiries which were made about her; and his being directed with more method and judgment than those of others, their result was more satisfactory. He soon “took up the trail,” to use an Indian phrase, and he and Gusty were not many hours in posting after the old lady. They arrived in town early in the morning, and lost no time in casting about for information.
One of the first places Edward inquired at was the inn where the postchaise generally drove to from the house where the old dowager had obtained her carriage in the country; but there no trace was to be had. Next, the principal hotels were referred to, but as yet without success; when, as they turned into one of the leading streets in continuance of their search, their attention was attracted by a crowd swaying to and fro in that peculiar manner which indicates there is a fight inside of it. Great excitement prevailed on the verge of the crowd, where exclamations escaped from those who could get a peep at the fight.
“The little chap has great heart!” cried one.
“But the sweep is the biggest,” said another.