"I--wish you'd call a coach, or something of that sort, gents.--I'm
devilish tired--I am, 'pon my soul!" said Mr. Titmouse, yawning, as he
stood on the steps between Quirk and Gammon, waiting for Snap's arrival.
He was, in fact, almost beside himself--bursting with excitement; and
could not stand still for a moment. Now he whistled loudly, and boldly;
then he hummed a bar or two of some low comic song; and repeatedly drew
on and off his damp gloves, with an air of petulant impetuosity. Now he
ran his hand through his hair with careless grace; and then, with arms
folded on his breast for a moment, looked eagerly, but with a would-be
languid air, at two or three elegant equipages, which, one by one, with
their depressed and disappointed occupants, rolled off. At length, Lord
Widdrington, amid a sharp impetuous cry of "Make way for the judge
there--make way for my Lord!" appeared in his robes, (holding his
three-cornered hat in his hand,) with a wearied air; and passing close
by Titmouse, was honored by him with a very fine bow indeed--his
Lordship not being, however, in the least aware of the fact--as he
passed on to his carriage. The steps were drawn up; the door was closed;
and amid a sharp blast of trumpets, the carriage drove slowly off,
preceded and followed by the usual attendants. All this pomp and
ceremony made a very deep impression upon the mind of Titmouse. "Ah,"
thought he, with a sudden sigh of mingled excitement and
exhaustion--"who knows but _I_ may be a judge some day? It's a devilish
pleasant thing, I'm sure! What a fuss he must make wherever he goes!
'Pon my life, quite delightful!" As there was no coach to be had, Mr.
Titmouse was forced to walk home, arm-in-arm with Mr. Quirk and Mr.
Gammon, and followed, at a little distance, by a knot of persons,
acquainted with his name and person, and feeling towards him a strange
mixture of emotions--dislike, wonder, contempt, admiration. Goodness
gracious! that strange little gentleman was now worth, it was said, ten
thousand a-year; and was squire of Yatton!! Old Quirk shook Titmouse's
hand with irrepressible enthusiasm, at least a dozen times on their way
to the inn; while Gammon now and then squeezed his arm, and spoke, in an
earnest tone, of the difficulties yet to be overcome. On reaching the
inn, the landlady, who was standing at the door, and had evidently been
on the look-out for her suddenly distinguished guest, received him with
several profound courtesies, and eager and respectful inquiries about
his health, as he had had no luncheon--and asking what he would be
pleased to have for his supper. She added, moreover, that fearing his
former bedroom might not have been to his mind, she had changed it, and
he would that night sleep in the very best she had.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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