“Why, the man in Hill Street, who plays and sells flutes, trumpets, and fiddles, and grand pehanners. He was talking to Egloskerry, that very small bachelor-man with money in the funds. I was going by, I’m sure, without thinking or expecting a nod from men of that glib kidney when in my working clothes——”
“You always will go poking into town in your working clothes. Beg you to change how I will, ’tis no use.”
“Well, however, I was in my working clothes. Werrington saw me. ‘Ah, Mr. Smith! a fine morning; excellent weather for building,’ says he, out as loud and friendly as if I’d met him in some deep hollow, where he could get nobody else to speak to at all. ’Twas odd: for Werrington is one of the very ringleaders of the fast class.”
At that moment a tap came to the door. The door was immediately opened by Mrs. Smith in person.
“You’ll excuse us, I’m sure, Mrs. Smith, but this beautiful spring weather was too much for us. Yes, and we could stay in no longer; and I took Mrs. Trewen upon my arm directly we’d had a cup of tea, and out we came. And seeing your beautiful crocuses in such a bloom, we’ve taken the liberty to enter. We’ll step round the garden, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” said Mrs. Smith; and they walked round the garden. She lifted her hands in amazement directly their backs were turned. “Goodness send us grace!”
“Who be they?” said her husband.
“Actually Mr. Trewen, the bank-manager, and his wife.”
John Smith, staggered in mind, went out of doors and looked over the garden gate, to collect his ideas. He had not been there two minutes when wheels were heard, and a carriage and pair rolled along the road. A distinguished-looking lady, with the demeanour of a duchess, reclined within. When opposite Smith’s gate she turned her head, and instantly commanded the coachman to stop.
“Ah, Mr. Smith, I am glad to see you looking so well. I could not help stopping a moment to congratulate you and Mrs. Smith upon the happiness you must enjoy. Joseph, you may drive on.”