"You surprise me!" said I, dropping my knife and fork. "Four days ago—and I know nothing about it. That is something new."
"It is young Mr. Moncton's doings, sir. The party is given in honour of his return. Says Mr. Theophilus to the Guv'nor, says he, 'I shall say nothing to Geoffrey, about it. What a capital joke it will be, to see him bolt into the room without studying the Graces for an hour.' I think it was the Graces, he said, sir; but whether it's a law book, or a book of fashions, sir, hang me if I can tell."
"But why did not you give me a hint of this, my good fellow?"
"Why, sir," said Saunders, hesitating and looking down, "everybody in this world has his troubles, and I, sir, have mine. Trouble, sir, makes a man forget every one's affairs but his own; and so, sir, the thing slipped quite out of my 'ead."
"And what has happened to trouble such a light heart as yours, Saunders?"
"Ah, sir!" sighing and shaking his head, "you remember Jemima, the pretty chamber maid, who lives at Judge Falcon's, across the street; I am sure you must, sir, for no one that saw Jemima once could forget her; and it was your first praising her that made me cast an eye upon her. Well, sir, I looked and loved, and became desperate about her, and offered her my 'onest 'and and 'eart, sir, and she promised to become my wife. Yes, indeed, she did; and we exchanged rings, and lucky sixpences and all that; and I gave master warning for next week; and took lodgings in a genteel country-looking cottage on the Deptford road. But I was never destined to find love there with Jemima."
"And what has happened to prevent your marriage?" said I, growing impatient and wishing to cut his long story down to the basement.
"Many a slip, sir, between the cup and the lip. There's truth in those old saws howsomever. Mr. Theophilus's French valet, poured such a heap of flummery into the dear girl's ears, that it turned her 'ead altogether, and she run off with the haffected puppy last night; but let him look well after himself, for I swear the first time I catch him, I'll make cat's meat of him. Ah! sir, the song says, that it's the men who is so cruelly deceitful, but I have found it the reverse. Never trust in vimen, sir! I swear I'll hate 'em all from this day, for Jemima's sake."
"Consider yourself a fortunate fellow," said I. "You have made a very narrow escape."
"Ah, sir, it's all very well talking, when you don't feel the smart yourself. I loved that false creter with my 'ole 'art. But there's one thing," brightening up, "which consoles me under this great haffliction, the annoyance that it has given to Mr. Theophilus. This morning, there was no one to dress him—to flatter his vanity and tell him what a fine gentleman he is: I had to carry up his boots and shaving-water. It was rare fun to see him stamping and raving about the room, and vishing all the vimen in the vorld at the devil. But hark! there's the dining-room bell. More wine. The ladies have just left for the drawing-room."