Christmas Penny Readings: Original Sketches for the SeasonFenn, George Manville
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Christmas Penny Readings: Original Sketches for the Season
Fenn, George Manville
Christmas stories; Fiction; Poetry; Short stories
"Why you're as nervous and bashful as ever, my boy," said Broxby, in his
rough, good-natured way, and I tried to laugh it off, particularly as it
was said before so many people in the well-lit drawing-room; but even
before the fearful shock my nerves received I always was of a terribly
nervous temperament, a temperament which makes me extremely susceptible.
As I am now forty I have given up all hopes of ever getting the better
of it, even as I have felt compelled to give up the expectation of
whiskers, curling hair, and--well no, not yet, for, as the poet says,
"We may be happy yet," and some fond, loving breast may yet throb for me
in the future. I may add that my hair is fair, my face slightly
freckled, and that I have a slight lisp, but it is so slight that you do
not notice it when you get used to me.
After a long, cold ride down by train to Ancaster, and a six miles' ride
in Broxby's dog-cart from the station, where I was met by his groom, the
well-lit drawing-room seemed so cheering and comfortable, and as I grew
a little more at home I began to be glad that I had left my chambers to
their fate for the time, and come down to bask awhile in the light of so
many lustrous orbs.
I was just feeling somewhat confused from the fact of Mrs Major
Carruthers having rested her eye upon me and smiled sweetly, when as a
matter of course I felt bound to do either one thing or the other, look
angry and suppose that she was laughing at me, or smile sympathetically
in return. I did the latter, when, as I said before, I became confused
to see that Major Carruthers was frowning fiercely at me, while his face
looked quite currant-dumplingified from the fierce hue assumed by his
pimples. But just at that moment a servant announced something to my
host, who came forward, slapped me on the shoulder, and I followed him
out of the room into his study, where a small table was spread expressly
for my delectation.
"You see we dined two hours ago, Augustus, so I'm going to chat and have
a glass of sherry with you while you freshen up. I thought it would be
more snug for you here in my study, so cut away."
I must confess to having felt hungry, and I directly commenced the meal,
while my friend chatted pleasantly about the party I had met in the
drawing-room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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