Alonzo loves--Alonzo loves! and whom? His grandmother! Oh, hide me,
gracious tomb! [Her Grace faints away.
Such acting as Tom Bulbul's I never saw. Tom lisps atrociously, and
uttered the passage, "You athk me if I thuffer," in the most absurd way.
Miss Clapperclaw says he acted pretty well, and that I only joke about
him because I am envious, and wanted to act a part myself.--I envious
indeed!
But of all the assemblies, feastings, junketings, dejeunes, soirees,
conversaziones, dinner-parties, in Our Street, I know of none pleasanter
than the banquets at Tom Fairfax's; one of which this enormous
provision-consumer gives seven times a week. He lives in one of the
little houses of the old Waddilove Street quarter, built long before
Pocklington Square and Pocklington Gardens and the Pocklington family
itself had made their appearance in this world.
Tom, though he has a small income, and lives in a small house, yet sits
down one of a party of twelve to dinner every day of his life; these
twelve consisting of Mrs. Fairfax, the nine Misses Fairfax, and Master
Thomas Fairfax--the son and heir to twopence halfpenny a year.
It is awkward just now to go and beg pot-luck from such a family as
this; because, though a guest is always welcome, we are thirteen at
table--an unlucky number, it is said. This evil is only temporary, and
will be remedied presently, when the family will be thirteen WITHOUT the
occasional guest, to judge from all appearances.
Early in the morning Mrs. Fairfax rises, and cuts bread and butter from
six o'clock till eight; during which time the nursery operations upon
the nine little graces are going on. If his wife has to rise early to
cut the bread and butter, I warrant Fairfax must be up betimes to earn
it. He is a clerk in a Government office; to which duty he trudges
daily, refusing even twopenny omnibuses. Every time he goes to the
shoemaker's he has to order eleven pairs of shoes, and so can't afford
to spare his own. He teaches the children Latin every morning, and is
already thinking when Tom shall be inducted into that language. He
works in his garden for an hour before breakfast. His work over by three
o'clock, he tramps home at four, and exchanges his dapper coat for his
dressing-gown--a ragged but honorable garment.
Which is the best, his old coat or Sir John's bran-new one? Which is the
most comfortable and becoming, Mrs. Fairfax's black velvet gown (which
she has worn at the Pocklington Square parties these twelve years, and
in which I protest she looks like a queen), or that new robe which the
milliner has just brought home to Mrs. Bumpsher's, and into which she
will squeeze herself on Christmas-day?
Miss Clapperclaw says that we are all so charmingly contented with
ourselves that not one of us would change with his neighbor; and so,
rich and poor, high and low, one person is about as happy as another in
Our Street.