The Wit and Humor of America
Chapter 52 : Mamma smiled triumphantly, and the peddler, tying up his bundle and slinging his stick,

Mamma smiled triumphantly, and the peddler, tying up his bundle and slinging his stick, departed with an air of humility.

Papa's voice was soon heard, as usual, before he was seen.

"Rub down Beauty, Mark, and tell Diggory to call out the hounds."

There was a slight embarra.s.sment in mamma's manner when he entered, mingled with the same quant.i.ty of bravado. He nodded to her, tapped me on the head with his riding-whip, gave Patsey a kiss as she stretched out her arms to him, tossed her in the air, and, returning her to her nurse, was pa.s.sing on.

"Do stop, Colonel," said mamma, "and admire my bargains. See this cut gla.s.s and plate that we have been wis.h.i.+ng for, to save our best set."

"What, this trash?" said he, pausing a moment at the table--"blown gla.s.s and washed bra.s.s! Who has been fooling you?"

"Colonel," said mamma, coloring highly, "how can you--"

"I can not stop a minute, now, wife," said he, "Jones and Ferguson are for a hunt to-day! They are waiting at Drake's corner. It looks like falling weather and my old drab will come in well to-day."

Mamma looked frightened, and he pa.s.sed on up-stairs. He was one of those gentlemen who keep a house alive, as the phrase is, whether in merriment or the contrary, and we were always prepared to search for his hat, or whip, or slippers, which he was confident he put in their places, but which, by some miracle, were often in opposite directions. Our greatest trial, however, was with mamma's and his spectacles, for they had four pairs between them--far-sighted and near-sighted. There were, indeed, _optical_ delusions practiced with them; for when papa wanted his, they were hidden behind some pickle-jar; and when mamma had carefully placed hers in her key-basket, they were generally found in one of papa's various pockets; when a distant object was to be seen, he was sure to mount the near-sighted, and cry "Pshaw!" and if a splinter was to be taken out, nothing could be found but the far-sighted ones, and he said something worse: sometimes all four pairs were missing, and such a scampering ensued!

We now heard a great outcry up-stairs. "Wife! Chloe! Cornelia! come and find my drab coat!" We looked at each other in dismay, but papa was not a man for delay, and we obeyed his summons.

"Wife," said he, beating aside the externals of man that hung about his dressing-room, "where is my old drab coat?"

Mamma swallowed as if a dry artichoke was in her throat, as she said, slowly, "Why, colonel, you know you had not worn that coat for months, and as you have another one, and a _roquelaure_, and the coat was full of moth-holes, I exchanged it with the peddler for cut gla.s.s and plate."

"Cut devils!" said papa, who liked to soften an oath by combinations; "it was worth twenty dollars--yes, more, because I felt at home in it. I hate new coats as I do--"

"But, colonel," interrupted mamma, "you did not see the scarlet tray, and the--"

"Scarlet nonsense," shouted papa; "I believe, if they could, women would sell their husbands to those rascally peddlers!"

Beauty and the hounds were now p.r.o.nounced ready. I followed papa to the piazza, and heard his wrath rolling off as he cantered away.