_Containing some Specimens of Heroism._
The evening now approached, in which the scene sir William Twyford had
with so much pains prepared, was to be acted. An imperfect rumour had
spread that something extraordinary was to pass in the public room. Miss
Prim was of opinion that a duel would be fought. "I shall be frightened
out of my wits," said she. "But I must go, for one loves any thing new,
and I believe there is nothing in it that a modest woman may not see."
Miss Gawky thought it would be a boxing match. "Bless us, my dear lord
Martin could stand no chance with that great lubberly macaroni." But Miss
Griskin, with a look of more than common sagacity, assured the ladies that
she had penetrated to the very bottom of the matter. "Mr. Prettyman and
lord Martin have ordered two large rounds of beef to be set upon the table
at supper, and they mean to lay about them for a wager."
In this manner every one made her own conjecture, which she preferred to
that of all the rest. Curiosity was wrought up to the highest pitch, and
the uncertainty that prevailed upon the subject, rendered the affair still
more interesting. The rooms were early filled with an uncommon number of
spectators. About nine o'clock Mr. Prettyman entered, but instead of
exerting himself with his usual vivacity, he retired to one corner of the
room, and sat in a sheepish and melancholy posture.
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