Home / News Author Index Title Index Category Index Search Your Bookshelf |
William Makepeace Thackeray: Vanity Fair34. XXXIV: James Crawley's Pipe Is Put Out (continued)Miss Crawley burst out laughing at this title. Mr. Bowls gave one abrupt guffaw, as a confidential servant of the family, but choked the rest of the volley; the diplomatist only smiled. "I--I didn't know any better," said James, looking down. "I've never been here before; it was the coachman told me." The young story-teller! The fact is, that on the Southampton coach, the day previous, James Crawley had met the Tutbury Pet, who was coming to Brighton to make a match with the Rottingdean Fibber; and enchanted by the Pet's conversation, had passed the evening in company with that scientific man and his friends, at the inn in question. "I--I'd best go and settle the score," James continued. "Couldn't think of asking you, Ma'am," he added, generously. This delicacy made his aunt laugh the more. "Go and settle the bill, Bowls," she said, with a wave of her hand, "and bring it to me." Poor lady, she did not know what she had done! "There --there's a little dawg," said James, looking frightfully guilty. "I'd best go for him. He bites footmen's calves." All the party cried out with laughing at this description; even Briggs and Lady Jane, who was sitting mute during the interview between Miss Crawley and her nephew: and Bowls, without a word, quitted the room. Still, by way of punishing her elder nephew, Miss Crawley persisted in being gracious to the young Oxonian. There were no limits to her kindness or her compliments when they once began. She told Pitt he might come to dinner, and insisted that James should accompany her in her drive, and paraded him solemnly up and down the cliff, on the back seat of the barouche. During all this excursion, she condescended to say civil things to him: she quoted Italian and French poetry to the poor bewildered lad, and persisted that he was a fine scholar, and was perfectly sure he would gain a gold medal, and be a Senior Wrangler. "Haw, haw," laughed James, encouraged by these compliments; "Senior Wrangler, indeed; that's at the other shop." This is page 397 of 809. [Marked] This title is on Your Bookshelf. Buy a copy of Vanity Fair at Amazon.com
Customize text appearance: |
(c) 2003-2012 LiteraturePage.com and Michael Moncur.
All rights
reserved.
For information about public domain texts appearing here, read the copyright information and disclaimer. |