Autobiography of a Pocket-HandkerchiefCooper, James Fenimore
General
Autobiography of a Pocket-Handkerchief
Cooper, James Fenimore
Fables; Handkerchiefs -- Fiction
There was not much time for Betts Shoreham to philosophize, and
speculate on female caprices and motives, John Monson making his
appearance in as high evening dress as well comported with what is
called "republican simplicity." John was a fine looking fellow, six
feet and an inch, with large whiskers, a bushy head of hair, and
particularly white teeth. His friend was two inches shorter, of much
less showy appearance, but of a more intellectual countenance, and of
juster proportions. Most persons, at first sight, would praise John
Monson's person and face, but all would feel the superiority of Betts
Shoreham's, on an acquaintance. The smile of the latter, in particular,
was as winning and amiable as that of a girl. It was that smile, on the
one hand, and his active, never dormant sympathy for her situation, on
the other, which, united, had made such an inroad on the young
governess's affections.
"It's deuced cold, Betts," said John, as he came near the fire; "this
delightful country of ours has some confounded hard winters. I wonder
if it be patriotic to say, OUR winters?"
"It's all common property, Monson--but, what have become of your sister
and Mademoiselle Hennequin? They were both here a minute since, and
have vanished like--"
"What?--ghosts!--no, you dare not call them THAT, lest their spirits
take it in dudgeon. Julie is no ghost, though she is sometimes so
delicate and ethereal, and as for Henny--"
"Who?" exclaimed Betts, doubting if his ears were true.
"Henny, Tote and Moll's governess. Whom do you think I could mean,
else? I always call her Henny, en famille, and I look upon you as
almost one of us since our travels."
{en famille = at home}
"I'm sure I can scarcely be grateful enough, my dear fellow--but, you
do not call her so to her face?"
"Why--no--perhaps not exactly in her very teeth--and beautiful teeth
she has, Betts--Julie's won't compare with them."
"Miss Monson has fine teeth, notwithstanding. Perhaps Mademoiselle
Hennequin--"
"Yes, Henny has the best teeth of any girl I know. They are none of
your pearls--some pearls are yellowish, you know--but they are teeth;
just what ought to be in a handsome girl's mouth. I have no objection
to pearls in a necklace, or in the pockets, but TEETH are what are
wanted in a mouth, and Henny has just the finest set I know of."
Betts Shoreham fidgetted at the "Henny," and he had the weakness, at
the moment, to wish the young governess were not in a situation to be
spoken of so unceremoniously. He had not time to express this feeling,
before John Monson got a glimpse of me, and had me under examination
beneath the light of a very powerful lamp. I declare that, knowing his
aversion to our species, I felt a glow in all my system at the
liberties he was taking.
"What have we here?" exclaimed John Monson, in surprise; "has Miss
Flowergarden made a call, and is this her card?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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