Brimberly between bristling whiskers. "Hexcuse me,
sir--I'll go and speak to 'em, sir--"
"Oh, pray don't trouble yourself, Mr. Brimberly; sit down and hearken!
These sad sounds are inspired by deep potations--beer, I fancy. Be
seated, Mr. Brimberly."
Mr. Brimberly obeyed, and being much agitated dropped his cigar and
grovelled for it, and it was to be noted thereafter that as the singers
drew nearer, he shuffled on his chair with whiskers violently a-twitch,
while his eyes goggled more and his domelike brow grew ever moister. But
on came the singing footmen and passed full-tongued, wailing out each
word with due effect, thus:
"--my sweet 'eart's--me mother
The best--the dearest--of--'em all."
"Hum!" murmured Young R., "I admire the sentiment, Brimberly, but the
execution leaves something to be desired, perhaps--"
"If you'll only let me go out to 'em, sir!" groaned Mr. Brimberly,
mopping himself with a very large, exceeding white handkerchief, "if you
honly will, sir!"
"No, Brimberly, no--it would only distress you, besides--hark! their
song is ended, and rather abruptly--I rather fancy they have fallen down
the terrace steps.
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