[For although naturally grave, and silently given, I often catch myself endeavouring to sport a bad pun, when I have got the ear of a fair damsel] The only effect which the witticism produced in the present instance, however, was an enormous groan, in which the fellows on the dickey participated. Even the postilion who stood near, set up a crowing laugh—and the very horses by their snorting and neighing, seemed to be sensible of the utter and deplorable failure.
And away they went—and they were hotly pursued, and overtaken, just in time to be too late—which left no other course but that of reconciliation;—and where there is no choice to be made, every body knows there is but one part to be taken.
That occurrence is now three years since, and it was only the other day that I again met the pair of turtles. Dropping in rather late at a card-party, I beheld them sitting vis-a-vis at one of the tables, playing together against an old lady and gentleman, before whom Mrs. L—— thought, perhaps, it was not necessary to appear very fashionable towards dear Harry. With the requisite ceremonious unceremoniousness so popular at present, I took a chair behind him, and annoyed him every moment by remarks upon his wife; of course all highly nattering to both.
"My love, you have played that card wrong—very wrong."
"Did I, my dear?" replied Mrs. L. smiling languidly, and looking in his face more as if she was admiring the elegant turn of his forehead, and the spirited expression of his dark eye, than as if she minded what he was saying—"'tis indeed—very."
"'Tis what?"
"Oh! were you not speaking of something? I beg pardon, love—I thought you spoke."
"And so I did, my dear. I told you that card was played most abominably."
"I dare say, my love;—[still gazing in his eyes and smiling]—I know I'm very stupid,"—[playing a card.]
"Well, you have taken a curious way to mend matters—that last play was a thousand degrees worse than the other."