“I know nothing of buryings or weddings,” said Tom; “they’re grave and melancholy subjects, about which I do not trouble myself.” “Well, indeed!” retorted Mrs. Brownstout; “I admire that amazingly; we all consider you one of the greatest gossips of the station.” “Perhaps, mamma,” said Miss Lucinda, archly, “Mr. Rattleton is too much engaged with his own approaching nuptials to think much about those of other people.” “Oh, that’s true,” said Mrs. B., with mock gravity; “they say you are going to get married; is it true, Rattleton?” “Oh, nonsense! mere Barrackpore _gup_ and scandal; who could have told you that?” “Oh, we have had it from the very best authority.” Tom laughed. “Well, Mr. Rattleton, when is it to take place?” asked Miss Lucinda, dipping her brush in her pallet, and touching up her drawing with all the _nonchalance_ imaginable. “I do so long to know; and who are to be the bridesmaids? I hope Maria or I shall be admitted to that honour.” “Oh, yes, when I _am_ married, you shall be the bridesmaid, certainly, the lady consenting; but that event, I take it, is rather remote. What on earth should a sub like me do with a wife, who can hardly take care of himself?” Many a true word spoken in jest, Mr. Tom, thought I. “You’ll wait for the vacant interpretership, eh?” said the mamma. “Well, that’s right, and like a prudent young man.” “That is an appointment admirably suited for you, Mr. Rattleton; you speak the language with such fluency and purity,” observed Miss Lucinda. “Upon my life,” said Tom, “you’re a great quiz; how long, Miss Maria, is it since your sister became so satirical? but as for the language,” added Tom, a little piqued, “I don’t think I speak that badly, after all. Now I appeal to you, Mrs. Brownstout—you’re a judge, and will do me justice.” “Why,” said Mrs. B., “pretty well—pretty well, considering you’re almost a griffin.” “Oh, yes, you speak it like a native—of England,” added Lucinda, laughing. Tom stood this and a good deal more pretty well, being evidently accustomed to this badinage with the Brownstouts. However, three at once were too much, and I, being a stranger, was inefficient and dummy. Tom exhausted his stock of repartee; was “beat to a dead stand-still,” to borrow the language of the Ring and began, I thought, to look a little grave and cross. The ladies, consequently, changed the theme, and the conversation flowed on in a more equable and rational stream. At length we arose and took our leave, Mrs. Brownstout begging me to come with Tom and pass the evening with them whenever I felt so disposed. The following day, at eleven, Rattleton and I walked over to the adjutant’s bungalow. I had had two or three days’ law and liberty, and it was intimated to me by Tom that I must now attend to duty, or expose myself to be considered one of what are cantly denominated “John Company’s hard bargains.”