Somebody-else, whose husband was not in the dockyard at all.
‘Colonel Bulder, Mrs. Colonel Bulder, and Miss Bulder,’ werethe next arrivals.
‘Head of the garrison,’ said the stranger, in reply to Mr.
Tupman’s inquiring look.
Miss Bulder was warmly welcomed by the Misses Clubber; thegreeting between Mrs. Colonel Bulder and Lady Clubber was ofthe most affectionate description; Colonel Bulder and Sir ThomasClubber exchanged snuff-boxes, and looked very much like a pairof Alexander Selkirks―‘Monarchs of all they surveyed.’
While the aristocracy of the place―the Bulders, and Clubbers,and Snipes―were thus preserving their dignity at the upper endof the room, the other classes of society were imitating theirexample in other parts of it. The less aristocratic officers of the97th devoted themselves to the families of the less importantfunctionaries from the dockyard. The solicitors’ wives, and thewine-merchant’s wife, headed another grade (the brewer’s wifevisited the Bulders); and Mrs. Tomlinson, the post-office keeper,seemed by mutual consent to have been chosen the leader of thetrade party.
One of the most popular personages, in his own circle, present,was a little fat man, with a ring of upright black hair round hishead, and an extensive bald plain on the top of it―DoctorSlammer, surgeon to the 97th. The doctor took snuff witheverybody, chatted with everybody, laughed, danced, made jokes,played whist, did everything, and was everywhere. To thesepursuits, multifarious as they were, the little doctor added a moreimportant one than any―he was indefatigable in paying the mostunremitting and devoted attention to a little old widow, whose richdress and profusion of ornament bespoke her a most desirableaddition to a limited income.
Upon the doctor, and the widow, the eyes of both Mr. Tupmanand his companion had been fixed for some time, when thestranger broke silence.
‘Lots of money―old girl―pompous doctor―not a bad idea―good fun,’ were the intelligible sentences which issued from hislips. Mr. Tupman looked inquisitively in his face. ‘I’ll dance withthe widow,’ said the stranger.
‘Who is she?’ inquired Mr. Tupman.
没有评论:
发表评论