"She is waiting, you know, sir, and she looks uncommon
irascible. There is the other lady left outside in the carriage."
"Miss Tickle! Don't let her in, whatever you do. She is the worst. Oh
dear! oh dear! Where are my coat and waistcoat, and my braces? And I
haven't brushed my hair. And these slippers won't do. What business has
she to come at this time of day, without saying a word to anybody?" Then
Matthew went to work, and got his master into decent apparel, with as
little delay as possible. "After all," said Mr. Prosper, "I don't think
I'll see her. Why should I see her?"
"She knows you are at home, sir."
"Why does she know I'm at home? That's your fault. She oughtn't to know
anything about it. Oh dear! oh dear! oh dear!" These last ejaculations
arose from his having just then remembered the nature of his postscript
to Harry Annesley, and the engagement of Joe Thoroughbung to his niece.
He made up his mind at the moment,--or thought that he had made up his
mind,--that Harry Annesley should not have a shilling as long as he
lived. "I am quite out of breath. I cannot see her yet. Go and offer the
lady cake and wine, and tell her that you had found me very much
indisposed. I think you will have to tell her that I am not well enough
to receive her to-day.
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