"Don't break her heart, Jos, you rascal," said another. "Don't trifle
with her affections, you Don Juan!"
"Get away," said Jos Sedley, quite pleased, and leering up at the
maid-servant in question with a most killing ogle. Jos was even more
splendid at Brighton than he had been at his sister's marriage. He had
brilliant under-waistcoats, any one of which would have set up a
moderate buck. He sported a military frock-coat, ornamented with frogs,
knobs, black buttons, and meandering embroidery. He had affected a
military appearance and habits of late; and he walked with his two
friends, who were of that profession, clinking his boot-spurs,
swaggering prodigiously, and shooting death-glances at all the servant
girls who were worthy to be slain.
"What shall we do, boys, till the ladies return?" the buck asked. The
ladies were out to Rottingdean in his carriage on a drive.
"Let's have a game at billiards," one of his friends said--the tall
one, with lacquered mustachios.
"No, dammy; no, Captain," Jos replied, rather alarmed. "No billiards
to-day, Crawley, my boy; yesterday was enough."
"You play very well," said Crawley, laughing. "Don't he, Osborne? How
well he made that-five stroke, eh?"
"Famous," Osborne said. "Jos is a devil of a fellow at billiards, and
at everything else, too. I wish there were any tiger-hunting about
here! we might go and kill a few before dinner. (There goes a fine
girl! what an ankle, eh, Jos?) Tell us that story about the tiger-hunt,
and the way you did for him in the jungle--it's a wonderful story that,
Crawley." Here George Osborne gave a yawn. "It's rather slow work,"
said he, "down here; what shall we do?"
"Shall we go and look at some horses that Snaffler's just brought from
Lewes fair?" Crawley said.
"Suppose we go and have some jellies at Dutton's," and the rogue Jos,
willing to kill two birds with one stone. "Devilish fine gal at
Dutton's."
"Suppose we go and see the Lightning come in, it's just about time?"
George said. This advice prevailing over the stables and the jelly,
they turned towards the coach-office to witness the Lightning's arrival.
As they passed, they met the carriage--Jos Sedley's open carriage, with
its magnificent armorial bearings--that splendid conveyance in which he
used to drive, about at Cheltonham, majestic and solitary, with his
arms folded, and his hat cocked; or, more happy, with ladies by his
side.
Two were in the carriage now: one a little person, with light hair, and
dressed in the height of the fashion; the other in a brown silk
pelisse, and a straw bonnet with pink ribbons, with a rosy, round,
happy face, that did you good to behold. She checked the carriage as
it neared the three gentlemen, after which exercise of authority she
looked rather nervous, and then began to blush most absurdly. "We have
had a delightful drive, George," she said, "and--and we're so glad to
come back; and, Joseph, don't let him be late."