“Indeed and Patrick,” said the girl who stood at the door, “if I
was you I’d be after making another penny to-night. Miss Jane is
pounding away at one of her long music pieces, and it won’t be over
before you have time to get to Rutgers and back again. And if you
do make them wait awhile, where’s the harm? They’ve a dry roof over
their heads, and I warrant it’s not the first waiting they’ve ever
had in their lives; and it won’t be the last neither.”
“Exactly so,” said the gentleman; and regardless of the propriety
of first sending to consult the persons who had engaged the
carriage, he told his wife to step in, and following her instantly
himself, they drove away to Rutgers Place.
Reader, if you were ever detained in a strange house by the
non-arrival of your carriage, you will easily understand the
excessive annoyance of finding that you are keeping a family out
of their beds beyond their usual hour. And in this case, there was
a double grievance; the guests being all impatience to get off to
a better place. The children, all crying when wakened from their
sleep, were finally taken to bed by two servant maids, and Jane
Watkinson, who never came back again. None were left but Hester,
the great French scholar, who, being one of those young imps that
seem to have the faculty of living without sleep, sat bolt upright
with her eyes wide open, watching the uncomfortable visitors.
The Morlands felt as if they could bear it no longer, and Edward
proposed sending for another carriage to the nearest livery stable.
“We don’t keep a man now,” said Mrs. Watkinson, who sat nodding
in the rocking-chair, attempting now and then a snatch of
conversation, and saying “ma’am” still more frequently than usual.
“Men servants are dreadful trials, ma’am, and we gave them up three
years ago. And I don’t know how Mary or Katy are to go out this
stormy night in search of a livery stable.”
“On no consideration could I allow the women to do so,” replied
Edward. “If you will oblige me by the loan of an umbrella, I will
go myself.”
Accordingly he set out on this business, but was unsuccessful
at two livery stables, the carriages being all out. At last he
found one, and was driven in it to Mr. Watkinson’s house, where
his mother and sister were awaiting him, all quite ready, with
their calashes and shawls on. They gladly took their leave; Mrs.
Watkinson rousing herself to hope they had spent a pleasant
evening, and that they would come and pass another with her on
their return to New York. In such cases how difficult it is to
reply even with what are called “words of course.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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