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A SHABBY GENTEEL STORY 49
Swigby was forty-eight years of age, stout, hearty, gay, much
given to drink, and had never been a lady's man, or, indeed, passed
half-a-dozen evenings in ladies' society. He thought Gann the
noblest and finest fellow in the world. He never heard any singing
like James's, nor any jokes like his ; nor had met with such an
accomplished gentleman or man of the world. "Gann has his
faults," Swigby would say at the " Bag of Nails "; " which of us
has not ?—but I tell you what, he's the greatest trump I ever see."
Many scores of scores had he paid for Gann, many guineas and
crown-pieces had he lent him, since he came into his property some
three years before. What were Swigby's former pursuits I can't
tell. What need we care ? Hadn't he five hundred a year now,
and a horse and gig ? Ay, that he had.
Since his accession to fortune, this gay young bachelor had
taken his share (what he called "his whack") of pleasure; had
been at one—nay, perhaps, at two—public-houses every night;
and had been tipsy, I make no doubt, nearly a thousand times in
the course of the three years. Many people had tried to cheat
him ; but, no, no ! he knew what was what, and in all matters of
money was simple and shrewd. Gann's gentility won him; his
bragging, his ton, and the stylish tuft on his chin. To be invited
to his house was a proud moment ; and when he went away, after
the banquet described in the last chapter, he was in a perfect
ferment of love and liquor.
" What a stylish woman is that Mrs. Gann!" thought he, as
he tumbled into bed at his inn; "fine she must have been as a
gal ! fourteen stone now, without saddle or bridle, and no mistake.
And them Miss Macartys. Jupiter! what spanking, handsome,
elegant creatures!—real elegance in both on 'em. Such hair!—
black's the word—as black as my mare ; such cheeks, such necks,
and shoulders !" At noon he repeated these observations to
Gann himself, as he walked up and down the pier with that
gentleman, smoking Manilla cheroots. He was in raptures with
his evening. Gann received his praises with much majestic goodhumour.
" Blood, sir !" said he, " blood's everything ! Them gals have
been brought up as few ever have. I don't speak of myself; but
their mother—their mother's a lady, sir. Show me a woman in
England as is better bred or knows the world more than my
Juliana !"
" It's impawssible," said Swigby.
" Think of the company we've kep', sir, before our misfortunes
—the fust in the land. Brandenburg House, sir,—England's
injured Queen. Law bless you ! Juliana was always there."
11 D