"When will dinner be ready, Mrs. T.?" inquired Tag-rag, abruptly, and with a very perceptible dash of sternness in his tone; but dinner was announced the very next moment. He took his wife's arm, and in doing so, gave it a sudden vehement pressure, which, coupled with a furious glance, explained to her the extent to which she had incurred his anger!
Titmouse's offered arm the timid Miss Tag-rag scarcely touched with the tip of her finger, as she walked beside him to dinner. He soon got tolerably composed and cheerful at dinner, (which, contrary to their usual custom—which was to have a cheerless cold dinner on the Sabbath—consisted of a little piece of nice roast beef, with plenty of horse-radish, Yorkshire pudding, a boiled fowl, a plum-pudding made by Mrs. Tag-rag, and custards which had been superintended by Miss Tag-rag herself,) and, to oblige his hospitable host and hostess, ate till he was near bursting. Miss Tag-rag, though really very hungry, could be prevailed upon to take only a very small slice of beef and a quarter of a custard, and drank a third of a glass of quasi sherry (i. e. Cape wine) after dinner. She never once spoke, except in hurried answers, to her papa and mamma; and sitting exactly opposite Titmouse, (with a big plate of greens and a boiled fowl between them,) was continually coloring whenever their eyes happened to encounter one another, on which occasions, hers would suddenly drop, as if overpowered by the brilliance of his. Titmouse began to love her very fast. After the ladies had withdrawn, you should have heard the way in which Tag-rag went on with Titmouse!—I can liken the two to nothing but an old fat spider and a little fly.
"Will you come into my parlor?
Said the spider to the fly;"
—in the old song: and it might have been well for Titmouse to have answered, in the language of the aforesaid fly:—
"No, thank you, sir, I really feel
No curiosity."
Titmouse, however, swallowed with equal facility Mr. Tag-rag's hard port and his soft blarney; but all fools have large swallows. When, at length, Tag-rag with exquisite skill and delicacy alluded to the painfully evident embarrassment of his "poor Tabby," and said he had "all of a sudden found out what had been so long the matter with her," [ay, even this went down,] and hemmed, and winked his eye, and drained his glass, Titmouse began to get flustered, blushed, and hoped Mr. Tag-rag would soon "join the ladies." They did so, Tag-rag stopping behind for a few moments to lock up the wine and the remains of the fruit, not wishing to subject the servant-boy to temptation by the rare opportunity afforded by fruit left on the table. Miss Tag-rag presided over the tea-things. There were muffins, and crumpets, and reeking-hot buttered toast; and hospitable Mrs. Tag-rag would hear of no denial, "things had been got, and must be eat," she thought within herself; so poor Titmouse, after a most desperate resistance, was obliged to swallow a round of toast, half a muffin, an entire crumpet, and four cups of hot tea; after which they felt that he must feel comfortable; but he, alas, in fact, experienced a very painful degree of turgidity, and a miserable conviction that he should be able neither to eat nor drink anything more for the remainder of the week!
After the tea-things had been removed, Tag-rag, directing Titmouse's attention to the piano, which was open, (with some music on it, ready to be played from,) asked him whether he liked music. Titmouse, with great eagerness, hoped Miss T. would give them some music; and she, after holding out a long and vigorous siege, at length asked her papa what it should be.
"The Battle of Prague," said her papa.
"Before Jehovah's awful throne, my dear!" hastily and anxiously interposed her mamma.
"The Battle," sternly repeated her papa.