And what a meal was that! with those deft, whitecapped maids to
wait upon our wants, and with Prudence hovering here and there to
see that all were duly served, and refusing to sit down until
George's great arm--a very gentle arm for one so strong and big
--drew her down beside him.
Yes, truly, what a meal that was, and how the Ancient chuckled,
and dug me with one bony elbow and George with the other, and
chuckled again till he choked, and choked till he gasped, and
gasped till he had us all upon our feet, then demanded indignantly
why we couldn't let him "enj'y hisself in peace."
And now, when the meal was nearly over, he suddenly took it into
his head that Prue didn't love George as she should and as he
deserved to be, and nothing would content him but that she must
kiss him then and there.
"An' not on the forr'ud, mind--nor on the cheek, but on the place
as God made for it--the mouth, my lass!"
And now, who so shy and blushing as Prue, and who so nervous, for
her sake, as Black George, very evidently clasping her hand under
the table, and bidding her never to mind--as he was content, and
never to put herself out over such as him. Whereupon Mistress
Prue must needs turn, and taking his bead between her hands,
kissed him--not once, or twice, but three times, and upon "the
place God made for it--the mouth."
O gleaming Cutlasses! O great Brass Jack and glittering Pots and
Pans! can ye any longer gleam and glitter and twinkle in doubt?
Alas! I trow not. Therefore it is only natural and to be
expected that beneath your outward polish lurk black and bitter
feelings against this curly-headed giant, and a bloodthirsty
desire for vengeance. If so, then one and all of you have, at
least, the good feeling not to show it, a behavior worthy of
gentlemen--what do I say?--of gentlemen?--fie! rather let it be
said--of pots and pans.