Handy Andy Volume I Part 51

"In the man's bed she was, I hear."

"So the story goes, ma'am."

"And they tell me, doctor, that when her father, that _immaculate_ madman--G.o.d keep us from harm!--said to poor Mrs. O'Grady, in a great rage, 'Where have you brought up your daughters to go to, ma'am?' said he; and she, poor woman, said, 'To church, my dear,' thinking it was the different religion the Saracen was after; so, says he, '_Church_, indeed! there's the church she's gone to, ma'am,' says he, turning down a quilted counterpane."

"Are you sure it was not Ma.r.s.eilles, ma'am?" said the doctor.

"Well, whatever it was, '_There's_ the church she is in,' says he, pulling her out of the bed."

"Out of the bed?" repeated the doctor.

"Out of the bed, sir!"

"Then _her_ church was in the Diocese of _Down_," said the doctor.

"That's good, docthor--indeed, that's good. 'She was caught in bed,'

says I; and 'It's the diocese of _Down_,' says _you_: 'faith, that's good. I wish the diocese was your own; for you're funny enough to be a bishop, docthor, you lay howld of everything."

"That's a great qualification for a mitre, ma'am," said the doctor.

"And the poor young man that has got her is not worth a farthing, I hear, docthor."

"Then _he_ must be the curate, ma'am; though I don't think it's a chapel of ease he has got into."

"Oh! what a tongue you have, docthor," said she, laughing; "'faith you'll kill me."

"That's my profession, ma'am. I am a licentiate of the Royal College; but, unfortunately for me, my humanity is an overmatch for my science.

Phrenologically speaking, my benevolence is large, and my destructiveness and acquisitiveness small."

"Ah, there you go off on another tack; and what a funny new thing that is you talk of!--that free knowledge or crow-knowledge, or whatever sort of knowledge you call it. And there's one thing I want to ask you about: there's a b.u.mp the ladies have, the gentlemen always laugh at, I remark."

"That's very rude of them, ma'am," said the doctor drily. "Is it in the anterior region, or the----"

"Docthor, don't talk queer."

"I'm only speaking scientifically, ma'am."

"Well, I think your scientific discourse is only an excuse for saying impudent things; I mean the back of their heads."

"I thought so, ma'am."

"They call it--dear me, I forget--something--motive--motive--it's Latin--but I am no _scholard_, docthor."

"That's manifest, ma'am."

"But a lady is not bound to know Latin, docthor."

"Certainly not, ma'am--nor any other language except that of the eyes."

Now, this was a wicked hit of the doctor's, for Mrs. Gubbins squinted frightfully; but Mrs. Gubbins did not know that, so she went on.

"The b.u.mp I mean, docthor, is motive something--motive--motive--I have it!--motive-_ness_."

"Now, I know what you mean," said the doctor; "amativeness."

"That's it," said Mrs. Gubbins; "they call it number one, sometimes; I suppose amativeness is Latin for number one. Now, what does that b.u.mp mean?"

"Ah, madam," said the doctor, puzzled for a moment to give an explanation; but in a few seconds he answered, "That's a beautiful provision of nature. That, ma'am, is the organ which makes your s.e.x take compa.s.sion on ours."[28]

[28] This very ingenious answer was really given by an Irish professor to an over-inquisitive lady.

"Wonderful!" said Mrs. Gubbins; "but how good nature is in giving us provision! and I don't think there is a finer provision county in Ireland than this."

"Certainly not, ma'am," said the doctor;--but the moment Mrs. Gubbins began to speak of provisions, he was sure she would get into a very solid discourse about her own farms; so he left his seat beside her and went over to Mrs. Riley, to see what fun could be had in that quarter.

Her daughter was cutting all sorts of barefaced capers about the room, "astonis.h.i.+ng the natives," as she was pleased to say; and Growling was looking on in amused wonder at this specimen of vulgar effrontery, whom he had christened "The Brazen Baggage" the first time he saw her.

"You are looking at my daughter, sir," said the delighted mother.

"Yes, ma'am," said the doctor, profoundly.

"She's very young, sir."

"She'll mend of that, ma'am. We were young once ourselves."

This was not very agreeable to the mother, who dressed rather in a juvenile style.

"I mean, sir, that you must excuse any little awkwardness about her--that all arises out of timidity--she was lost with bashfulness till I roused her out of it--but now I think she is beginning to have a little self-possession."

The doctor was amused, and took a large pinch of snuff; he enjoyed the phase "_beginning_ to have a _little_ self-possession" being applied to the most brazen baggage he ever saw.

"She's very accomplished, sir," continued the mother. "Mister Jew-val (Duval) taitches her dancin', and Musha Dunny-ai (Mons. Du Noyer)[29]

French. Misther Low-jeer (Logier) hasn't the like of her in his academy on the pianya; and as for the harp, you'd think she wouldn't lave a sthring in it."

[29] My own worthy and excellent master, to whom I gladly pay this tribute of kindly remembrance.

"She must be a treasure to her teachers, ma'am," said the doctor.

"'Faith, you may well say _threasure_, it costs handfuls o' money; but sure, while there's room for improvement, every apartment must be attended to, and the vocal apartment is filled by Sir John--fifteen s.h.i.+llin's a lesson, no less."

"What silvery tones she ought to bring out, ma'am, at that rate!"

"'Faith, you may say that, sir. It's coining, so it is, with them tip-top men, and ruins one a'most to have a daughter; every shake I get out of her is to the tune of a ten-poun' note, at least. You shall hear her by-and-by; the minit the dancin' is over, she shall sing you the 'Bewildhered Maid.' Do you know the 'Bewildhered Maid,' sir?"

"I haven't the honour of her acquaintance, ma'am," said the doctor.

The dancing _was_ soon over, and the mother's threat put into execution.

Miss Riley was led over to the piano by the widow, with the usual protestations that she was hoa.r.s.e. It took some time to get the piano ready, for an extensive clearance was to be made from it of cups and saucers, and half-empty gla.s.ses of negus, before it could be opened; then, after various thrummings and hummings and hawings, the "Bewildhered Maid" made her appearance in the wildest possible manner, and the final shriek was quite worthy of a maniac. Loud applause followed, and the wriggling Miss Riley was led from the piano by James Reddy, who had stood at the back of her chair, swaying backward and forward to the music, with a maudlin expression of sentiment on his face, and a suppressed exclamation of "B-u-tiful!" after every extra shout from the young lady.