Dick Nugent's Wager [pp. 80-88]

APPLETONS' JO URNAL.
ones repelled him, ugly ones crowded him, pretty
ones avoided him; but fat, lean, short, long, weak,
strong, ugly, and pretty, were as one in crushing
his arms, in hustling him hither and thither, buffeting and bonneting him, until at length, more
dead than alive, panting, exhausted, and breathless,
he was flung by a gigantic female on to the platform, where his companion, as cool as a dew-laden
cabbage-leaf, awaited his arrival.
"Where have you been, Bentick? I thought you
were a lost mutton."
"Those doosidl women!" gasped the rifleman.
"What women?"
"These monsters!" pointing in the direction of
a band of water-proofed, galoshed, umbrellaed, sandwiched, catalogued, spectacled females, who were
plunging violently and vigorously in the direction of
the train.
"Have you been fascinated?"
"Have I been torn limb from limb! have I been
pinched into a doosid jelly-fish! have I been pounded
into mincemeat!-am I pinched, beaten, bullied, and
blackguarded! Look at my boots, in flitters, by
George! look at my coat, in ribbons, by George!
look at my hat, a pancake, by George! Savages!
red Indians in pearl-powder and false hair, begad!"
The last few words fell upon a pair of diminutive
pink ears, attached to a charming little head, belonging to an exquisitely - proportioned little lady, who
happened to be standing close by. She turned and
glanced angrily at the speaker. Could it be possible
that he was referring to ladies-women, in this earnest yet outlandish manner? And "Indians in pearlpowder and false hair!" He could not be an American; evidently an Englishman and a snob. She
clinched a duck of a hand, fit to tickle Cupid on his
rose-leaf couch, or to hold the ruddy archer's bow
while he adjusted his arrows, and glared at the unconscious Bentick, who solemnly continued:
"If these are American ladies, by George! I've
had enough -a doosid deal more than enough of
them; and I'll be hanged if I'm civil to one as long
as my foot is in the country! Ladies-whew!" and
he threw his remaining breath into a contemptuous
whistle.
If he had been constructed of penetrable stuff,
he ought to have withered beneath the scornful
glance of the angry little beauty at his side. She
commenced her incisive scrutiny at the top of his
dilapidated hat, and cutting him downward, as a
sharp knife peels a ripe apple, landed a battery of
defiant glances on the toes of his tarnished, trampled boots. The little fists involuntarily closed
themselves, and the soles of the petit buttoned
boots patted the asphalt to that movement popularly
known as "the devil's tattoo."
"That's a piquant bit of America, Lionel," said
Nugent, who had silently taken stock, "and won't
somebody catch something before long? Look at
her!"
"She be beautiful!" exclaimed Bentick, without
,deigning to turn his head.
"She is a figure, and her tournure'is all there.
Worth, of Paris, built that costume, and she carries
it like a Frenchwoman. Her dress interprets her
form-I like a girl whose dress caresses her."
At this moment a tall, distinguished-looking, elderly man, after a somewhat prolonged stare, advanced to Lionel.
"Have I not the pleasure of addressing Mr. Bentick?"
The rifleman hunted up an eye-glass, stuck it in
his eye, peered at the questioner, and drawled "Y-a-a-s, that's my name, begad!"
"I had the pleasure of meeting you at a gardenparty at Lady Waldegrave's last June, at Strawberry
Hill."
A gleam of intelligence spun along Bentick's features as he exclaimed:
"You're Bulliondust, the American banker. Doosid glad to meet you, Bulliondust. How's America?"
"Just regaining breath after the fight for the
presidency," replied Mr. Bulliondust with a smile;
"we've had Tilden on the brain and Hayes in the
heart for some weeks, a bad attack of both, and we're
in the doctor's hands still. He is counting our pulsations. You are going to the Centennial, I presume, to take one last, long, lingering look at our
big store?"
"Only a squint, begad! a doosid short wink.-I
say, Dick" (this to his companion), "this is Bulliondust; met him at Strawberry Hill-an American, and
doosid civil and respectable. No kerosene or shoddy
here. -Mr. Bulliondust," he added, addressing that
gentleman, "let me introduce Dick Nugent, of the
Twenty - seventh Light Dragoons- a captain, by
George! as young as he looks, and has a coatful
of medals. Got the cross at Inkerman for slating
three Russians, and'-"
"When Bentick is commander-in-chief I shall
look out for promotion, Mr. Bulliondust," interposed
Dick Nugent, laughingly; "in the mean time I shall
appoint him my trumpeter-general."
"Do you propose a long visit, Captain Nugent?"
asked the banker.
"I must report myself for duty at the Horse
Guards on the Ist, consequently must leave on the
22d at the very latest."
"Surely there is such an institution in the British
army as extension of leave; and, although we are
going to close our Exhibition, we are not going to
shut up the United States."
"There is no extension of leave while the Russian bear is sucking his sore paw, and the galvanized
Turkey endeavoring to fly."
On the steps of a parlor-car stood the little lady
of the bright eyes and piquant tournure. An expression of astonishment, if not of irritation, flashed across
her countenance as she beheld the approaching group.
"My daughter," said Mr. Bulliondust.-" Julie,
this is Mr. Bentick, whom we met at Lady Waldegrave's garden-party-and this is Captain Nugent,
his friend."
"Hurry up," cried the conductor; "the train is in
motion."
A jerky - fate, destiny, kismet —call it a jerk,
82