“A strange business this in America, Dr. Grant!” Tom spoke in a quite loud and energetic voice. “What is your opinion? I always come to you to know what I am to think of public matters. Incidentally, what is all this—whoever invited so much inferior rabble to this assembly? Everywhere one turns to look, servant or guest, it appears to be a parade of bad skin! Horrible, sallow faces, whatever is the matter with the neighborhood? Have all the gentlefolk of fine breeding gone to sea, to be replaced by sunburned, scurvy-riddled buccaneers? Behold, for example, that one, strange lumbering fellow, whether dancing or walking in a circle, one cannot tell—why, even his coat is a ragged mess—No, cannot be—indeed, my mistake! Perchance it is simply poorly arranged wrist lace—”

But complain as he did, no one else seemed to remark upon the poor appearance of the general assembly. Even the speaker himself soon blinked a few times and attributed his bizarre first impression to the late hour and to an extra drink.

“My dear Tom,” cried his aunt soon afterwards, “as you are not dancing, I dare say you will have no objection to join us in a rubber[10]; shall you?” Then leaving her seat, and coming to him to enforce the proposal, added in a whisper, “We want to make a table for Mrs. Rushworth, you know. Your mother is quite anxious about it, but cannot very well spare time to sit down herself, because of her fringe. Now, you and I and Dr. Grant will just do; and though we play but half-crowns, you know, you may bet half-guineas with him.”

“I should be most happy,” replied he aloud, and jumping up with alacrity, “it would give me the greatest pleasure; but that I am this moment going to dance. Come, Fanny,” taking her hand, “do not be dawdling any longer, or the dance will be over.”

Fanny was led off very willingly, though it was impossible for her to feel much gratitude towards her cousin, or distinguish, as he certainly did, between the selfishness of another person and his own.