The Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. YellowplushThackeray, William Makepeace
General
The Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush
Thackeray, William Makepeace
Didactic fiction; England -- Fiction; Household employees -- Fiction; Humorous stories; Master and servant -- Fiction
Deuceace handed back the letter; sneared, and poohd, and hinted that
such an invitation was an insult at best (what he called a pees ally);
and, the ladies might depend upon it, was only sent because Lady Bobtail
wanted to fill up two spare places at her table. But Lady Griffin and
Miss would not have his insinwations; they knew too fu lords ever to
refuse an invitatium from any one of them. Go they would; and poor
Deuceace must dine alone. After they had been on their ride, and had had
their other amusemince, master came back with them, chatted, and laft;
he was mighty sarkastix with my lady; tender and sentrymentle with Miss;
and left them both in high sperrits to perform their twollet, before
dinner.
As I came to the door (for I was as famillyer as a servnt of the house),
as I came into the drawing-room to announts his cab, I saw master very
quietly taking his pocket-book (or pot fool, as the French call it) and
thrusting it under one of the cushinx of the sofa. What game is this?
thinx I.
Why, this was the game. In abowt two hours, when he knew the ladies were
gon, he pretends to be vastly anxious abowt the loss of his potfolio;
and back he goes to Lady Griffinses to seek for it there.
“Pray,” says he, on going in, “ask Miss Kicksey if I may see her for a
single moment.” And down comes Miss Kicksey, quite smiling, and happy to
see him.
“Law, Mr. Deuceace!” says she, trying to blush as hard as ever she
could, “you quite surprise me! I don't know whether I ought, really,
being alone, to admit a gentleman.”
“Nay, don't say so, dear Miss Kicksey! for do you know, I came here for
a double purpose--to ask about a pocket-book which I have lost, and may,
perhaps, have left here; and then, to ask you if you will have the great
goodness to pity a solitary bachelor, and give him a cup of your nice
tea?”
NICE TEA! I thot I should have split; for I'm blest if master had eaten
a morsle of dinner!
Never mind: down to tea they sat. “Do you take cream and sugar, dear
sir?” says poar Kicksey, with a voice as tender as a tuttle-duff.
“Both, dearest Miss Kicksey!” answers master; who stowed in a power of
sashong and muffinx which would have done honor to a washawoman.
I shan't describe the conversation that took place betwigst master and
this young lady. The reader, praps, knows y Deuceace took the trouble to
talk to her for an hour, and to swallow all her tea. He wanted to find
out from her all she knew about the famly money matters, and settle at
once which of the two Griffinses he should marry.
The poar thing, of cors, was no match for such a man as my master. In
a quarter of an hour, he had, if I may use the igspression, “turned her
inside out.” He knew everything that she knew; and that, poar creature,
was very little. There was nine thousand a year, she had heard say,
in money, in houses, in banks in Injar, and what not. Boath the ladies
signed papers for selling or buying, and the money seemed equilly
divided betwigst them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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