“Good people all! my brother-in-law, Mr. STIFFELKIND!”
MR. STIFFELKIND!—I trembled as I heard the name!
Miss Crutty kissed him; mamma made him a curtsy, and papa made him a bow; and Dr. Snorter, the parson, seized his hand and shook it most warmly: then came my turn!
“Vat!” says he. “It is my dear goot yong frend from Doctor Schvis'hentail's! is dis de yong gentleman's honorable moder” (mamma smiled and made a curtsy), “and dis his fader? Sare and madam, you should be broud of soch a sonn. And you my niece, if you have him for a husband you vill be locky, dat is all. Vat dink you, broder Croty, and Madame Stobbs, I 'ave made your sonn's boots! Ha—ha!”
My mamma laughed, and said, “I did not know it, but I am sure, sir, he has as pretty a leg for a boot as any in the whole county.”
Old Stiffelkind roared louder. “A very nice leg, ma'am, and a very SHEAP BOOT TOO. Vat! did you not know I make his boots? Perhaps you did not know something else too—p'raps you did not know” (and here the monster clapped his hand on the table and made the punch-ladle tremble in the bowl)—“p'raps you did not know as dat yong man, dat Stobbs, dat sneaking, baltry, squinting fellow, is as vicked as he is ogly. He bot a pair of boots from me and never paid for dem. Dat is noting, nobody never pays; but he bought a pair of boots, and called himself Lord Cornvallis. And I was fool enough to believe him vonce. But look you, niece Magdalen, I 'ave got five tousand pounds: if you marry him I vill not give you a benny. But look you what I will gif you: I bromised you a bresent, and I will give you DESE!”
And the old monster produced THOSE VERY BOOTS which Swishtail had made him take back.
I DIDN'T marry Miss Crutty: I am not sorry for it though. She was a nasty, ugly, ill-tempered wretch, and I've always said so ever since.
And all this arose from those infernal boots, and that unlucky paragraph in the county paper—I'll tell you how.