Shoulder-Straps: A Novel of New York and the Army, 1862Morford, Henry
History
Shoulder-Straps: A Novel of New York and the Army, 1862
Morford, Henry
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
It could not have been malice--it certainly must have been want of
thought--that induced Aunt Martha to break the temporary silence with
the remark, addressed to the Colonel:
"It is a funny question I am going to ask, I know, Colonel, but I
suppose I have an old woman's privilege. Mrs. Owen and myself were
talking about ages a day or two ago, and she thought you were more than
thirty-five. How old _are_ you?"
If half a paper of pins, with all the points upward, had suddenly made
their appearance in the bottom of the Colonel's chair, he probably could
not have been more discomfited. What reason he had to be unquiet, will
be more apparent at a later period. He fidgetted a little and hemmed
more than once, before he replied:
"Humph! hum! Well, Madame, to tell you the truth, I _am_ a little on the
shady side of extreme youth--old enough to be through with my juvenile
indiscretions--ha! ha!" (The laugh decidedly forced and feeble). "I am a
little over thirty-two--was thirty-two in March last."
"I thought so! I was sure you could not be older than that!" said Aunt
Martha, in the most natural way in the world, while Emily took a quick
look round at the Colonel, which said, much plainer than words: "Oh,
what a bouncer!"
"No, Madame," added the Colonel, perhaps aware that fibs require to be
told over at least twice before they acquire the weight of truths told
_once_. "No, Madame, a fraction over thirty-two, as I said."
At that moment the invisible influences, if they have good ears, may
have heard Frank Wallace getting up from his chair, and muttering
between his teeth something very like:
"Humph! well, I cannot stand _this_ any longer! If I do not succeed in
making the house too warm to hold that respectable individual, within
ten minutes, I shall certainly leave it myself!" Just then the words
"thirty-two," from the Colonel's lips, met his ear, and though he did
not catch the context, so as to know what it was all about, the spirit
of malicious (and it must be said, reckless) mischief, prompted him to
lounge leisurely forward and take a share in the conversation, although
uninvited.
"Ah, Colonel, did I understand you to say thirty-two?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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