Mrs. _Wadman_ had told it, with all its circumstances, to Mrs.
_Bridget_ twenty-four hours before; and was at that very moment sitting
in council with her, touching some slight misgivings with regard to the
issue of the affairs, which the Devil, who never lies dead in a ditch,
had put into her head—before he would allow half time, to get quietly
through her _Te Deum._
I am terribly afraid, said widow _Wadman_, in case I should marry him,
_Bridget_—that the poor captain will not enjoy his health, with the
monstrous wound upon his groin——
It may not, Madam, be so very large, replied _Bridget_, as you
think——and I believe, besides, added she—that ’tis dried up——
——I could like to know—merely for his sake, said Mrs. _Wadman_——
—We’ll know and long and the broad of it, in ten days—answered Mrs.
_Bridget_, for whilst the captain is paying his addresses to you—I’m
confident Mr. _Trim_ will be for making love to me—and I’ll let him as
much as he will—added _Bridget_—to get it all out of him——
The measures were taken at once——and my uncle _Toby_ and the corporal
went on with theirs.
Now, quoth the corporal, setting his left hand a-kimbo, and giving such
a flourish with his right, as just promised success—and no more——if
your honour will give me leave to lay down the plan of this attack——
——Thou wilt please me by it, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_,
exceedingly—and as I foresee thou must act in it as my _aid de camp_,
here’s a crown, corporal, to begin with, to steep thy commission.
Then, an’ please your honour, said the corporal (making a bow first for
his commission)—we will begin with getting your honour’s laced clothes
out of the great campaign-trunk, to be well air’d, and have the blue
and gold taken up at the sleeves—and I’ll put your white ramallie-wig
fresh into pipes—and send for a taylor, to have your honour’s thin
scarlet breeches turn’d——
—I had better take the red plush ones, quoth my uncle _Toby_—They will
be too clumsy—said the corporal.