Then comes a Professor
in black velvet spangled tights, who insists, spite my shaking my
head at him dolefully through the drizzling mist, in going through
a drawing-room entertainment for the amusement and edification of a
Telegraph-office Boy, who has apparently only one message to deliver,
and it is to be presumed finds time hang in consequence a little
heavily upon his hands. Spite my menacing and almost fierce refusal to
appear at my window, however, he has the hardihood to knock, and ask
for a "trifle." This, if I could only ensure that he would devote it
to the purchase of a place on the coach to Barminster, I would gladly
give him; but knowing that it will only enable him to make an early
breakfast of cold gin and bitters at the "Boar's Head and Anchor,"
I shake my fist at him, as much as to say, "I am feeble I admit,
and do not, I dare say, look as if there were much fight in me!
But, by Jove! there is such a thing as the law, even, I suppose, at
Torsington-on-Sea! You had best not tempt me too far, my fine fellow."
His reply to this is characteristic; at least, I think so. For within
twenty minutes the discarded Christy Minstrel, the Silvery-voiced
Tenor, some performing dogs, the whole of the Town Band, the Man with
the Bath-chair and general crowd of "loafers," assemble opposite my
dining-room windows, braving south-west wind (half a gale of it),
and a general downpour, leaden sky, and indications of "being in" for
"another day of it.
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