Who so honourable? Polly waited, and waited
faintly, from year to year. HE wasn't sick at heart; HIS passion never
disturbed his six hours' sleep, or kept his ambition out of mind. He
would rather have hugged an attorney any day than have kissed Polly,
though she was one of the prettiest creatures in the world; and while
she was pining alone upstairs, reading over the stock of half-a-dozen
frigid letters that the confounded prig had condescended to write
to her, HE, be sure, was never busy with anything but his briefs in
chambers--always frigid, rigid, self-satisfied, and at his duty. The
marriage trailed on year after year, while Mr. Serjeant Shirker grew to
be the famous lawyer he is.
'Meanwhile, my younger brother, Pump Temple, who was in the 120th
Hussars, and had the same little patrimony which fell to the lot of
myself and Polly, must fall in love with our cousin, Fanny Figtree, and
marry her out of hand. You should have seen the wedding! Six
bridesmaids in pink, to hold the fan, bouquet, gloves, scent-bottle,
and pocket-handkerchief of the bride; basketfuls of white favours in
the vestry, to be pinned on to the footmen and horses; a genteel
congregation of curious acquaintance in the pews, a shabby one of poor
on the steps; all the carriages of all our acquaintance, whom Aunt
Figtree had levied for the occasion; and of course four horses for Mr.
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