Part 10 (1/2)

”Why, I thought we might have learned English at the same school.”

Mr. Boosey looked puzzled; but Mr. Potiphar broke in:

”Well, Mrs. Gnu, I'm glad to see you smile at last. After all, the remark of the Amba.s.sador's was only what they would call in France, 'a perfect bougie of a joke.'”

”Good evening, Mrs. Potiphar,” cried the Sennaar Minister, rising suddenly, and running toward the door. We heard him next under the window going off in great shouts of laughter, and whistling in the intervals, ”Hail Columbia!” What shocking habits he has for a minister! I don't know how it was that Mr. Potiphar was in such good humor; but he promised his wife that she should go to Paris, and that she might select her party. So she invited us all who were at the table. Mrs. Gnu declined: but I knew mamma would let me go with the Potiphars.

”Dear Pot.,” said Mrs. P., ”we shall be gone so short a time, and shall be so busy, and hurrying from one place to another, that we had better leave little Freddy behind. Poor, dear little fellow, it will be much better for him to stay.”

Mr. P. looked a little sober at this; but he said nothing except to ask:

”Shall you all be ready to sail in a fortnight?”

”Certainly, in a week,” we all answered.

”Well, then, we must hurry home to prepare,” said he. ”I shall write for state-rooms for us in Monday's boat, Polly.”

”Very well; that's a dear Pot.,” said she; and as we all rose she went up to him, and took his arm tenderly. It was an unusual sight: I never saw her do it before. Mrs. Gnu said to me:

”Well, really, that's rather peculiar. I think people had better make love in private.”

”No, by Jove,” whispered Mr. Boosey to me; ”and I am afraid he had drank freely, as I have once or twice before heard that he did; but the world is such a gossip!--no, she doesn't let _her_ good works of that kind s.h.i.+ne before men.”

”Why, Mr. Boosey,” said I, ”how can you?”

”Will you believe, darling Mrs. Downe, that instead of answering, he sort of winked at me, and said, under his voice, 'Good night, Caroline.' I drew myself up, you may depend, and said coldly:

”Good evening, Mr. Boosey.”

He drew himself up too, and said:

”I called you Caroline, you called me Mr. Boosey.”

And then looking straight and severely at me, he actually winked again.

Then of course, I knew he was not responsible for his actions.

Ah me, what things we are! Just as I was leaving the room with Mrs. Gnu, who had matronized me, Mr. Boosey came up with such a soft, pleading look in his eyes that seemed to say, ”please forgive me,” and put out his hand so humbly, and appeared so sorry and so afraid that I would not speak to him, that I really pitied him: but when, in his low, rich voice, he said:

”Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered!”--

I couldn't hold out; wasn't it pretty? So I put out my hand, and he shook it tenderly, and said ”tomorrow” in a way--well, dear Mrs. Downe, I will be frank with you--that made me happy all night.

At this rate I shall never get to Paris. But the next day it was known everywhere we were going and everybody congratulated us. Our party met at the Bowling Alley, and we began to make all kinds of plans.

”Oh! _we'll_ take care of all the arrangements,” said Mr. Boosey, nodding toward Mr. Croesus and Mr. Firkin.

”Mr. Boosey, were you presented to the Emperor?” inquired Kurz Pacha.

”Certainly I was,” replied he; ”I have a great respect for Louis Napoleon. Those Frenchmen didn't know what they wanted; but he knew well enough what he wanted: they didn't want him, perhaps, but he did want them, and now he has them. A true nephew of his uncle, Kurz Pacha; and you can see what a man the great Napoleon must have been, when the little Napoleon succeeds so well upon the strength of the name.”