"Ask Mamma"; or, The Richest Commoner In EnglandSurtees, Robert Smith
General
"Ask Mamma"; or, The Richest Commoner In England
Surtees, Robert Smith
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Fox hunting -- Fiction
William, with her best vinegar sneer, the
next time they met. She “‘oped she had told her fine friend that
the vulgar woman she saw at her ‘ouse was no connection of
her’s.” But enough of such nonsense. Let us on to something more
pleasant.
Well, then, of course the next step in our story is the
appearance of our hero, the boy Billy——Fine Billy, aforesaid.
Such a boy as never was seen! All other mammas went away
dissatisfied with theirs, after they had got a peep of our Billy.
If baby-shows had been in existence in those days, Mrs. Billy
might have scoured the country and carried away all the prizes.
Everybody was struck in a heap at the sight of him, and his
sayings and doings were worthy of a place in Punch. So thought
his parents, at least. What perfected their happiness, of course,
operated differently with the family, and eased the minds of the
ladies, as to the expediency of further outward civility to Mrs.
William, who they now snubbed at all points, and prophesied all
sorts of uncharitableness of. Mrs., on her side, surpassed them
all in dress and good looks, and bucked Billy up into a very
produceable-looking article. Though he mightn’t exactly do for
White’s bay-window on a summer afternoon, he looked uncommonly
well on “‘Change,” and capitally in the country. Of course, he
came in for one of the three cardinal sources of abuse the world
is always so handy with, viz., that a man either behaves ill to
his wife, is a screw, or is out-running the constable, the
latter, of course, being Billy’s crime, which admitted of a large
amount of blame being laid on the lady, though, we are happy to
say, Billy had no trial of speed with the constable, for his
wife, by whose permission men thrive, was a capital manager, and
Billy slapped his fat thigh over his beloved balance-sheets every
Christmas, exclaiming, as he hopped joyously round on one leg,
snapping his finger and thumb, “_Our Billy shall be a gent! Our
Billy shall be a gent!_” And he half came in to the oft-expressed
wish of his wife, that he might live to see him united to a
quality lady: Mr. and Lady Arabella Pringle, Mr. and Lady Sophia
Pringle, or Mr. and Lady Charlotte Elizabeth Pringle, as the case
might be.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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