Witherlee laughed—a chuckling laugh, as though his throat was full of turtle.
“I was struck with the contrast,” he remarked. “Wentworth was dressed in his dandy artist rig—spruce as Beau Brummel, and Harrington wore those superannuated old clothes, looking for all the world as if he had just been let out of the watchhouse. Splendid girls they were with too. Wentworth beside one of them was like a bizarre creature, of some sort or other, walking with a princess, and Harrington like a strapping young rag-picker along side of a queen.”
“Ah, zey is vair fine young zhentilmen,” tranquilly replied Monsieur Bagasse. “Vair fine.”
Witherlee made no reply, but slightly elevated his handsome eyebrows in expressive disparagement.
“You know zose ladee, Miss’r Witterly?” inquired the old Frenchman.
“Oh yes, very well. I walked along with them this morning. One is a Miss Eastman—she lives in Temple street with her mother. Quite rich. The other is a Miss Ames, who is visiting the Eastmans. Her family are all rich. They live at Cambridge.”
“Vair fine ladee? Wis beautee—wis dollair, eh?”
“Oh yes, indeed. Very much sought after too, both of them. With crowds of admirers, I assure you.”
“Ah, Miss’r Witterly, I am so glad for zat. It please me vair mush that Miss’r Harrington and Miss’r Wentwort’ sall marry zose vair fine ladee.”
“Hoity, toity, my dear Monsieur Bagasse, what in the world are you thinking of? Your pupils are not so lucky as that yet. Wentworth might have a chance, for his father’s rich, and in good standing, though I judge from the way things go on lately that Miss Ames cares precious little for him. But Harrington—why he’s as poor as a church mouse, and doesn’t move in good society at all. How Miss Eastman tolerates his visits, I can’t imagine. I suppose it’s her kindness though. Seems to me Harrington must have a great deal of assurance to visit her at all. As for marrying her, why it’s perfectly absurd! She’d as soon marry a man out of the poor-house. Good gracious! look at the old coat the fellow wears! Why the lady belongs to our first society—a su-pairb person—perfectly dis-t-a-nguay.”