Doctor Thorne Anthony Trollope (best english books to read for beginners txt) đ
- Author: Anthony Trollope
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Having had a previous hint of this, he had sought advice from his cousin, the Honourable George, whom he regarded as a dab at speaking; at least, so he had heard the Honourable George say of himself.
âWhat the deuce is a fellow to say, George, when he stands up after the clatter is done?â
âOh, itâs the easiest thing in life,â said the cousin. âOnly remember this: you mustnât get astray; that is what they call presence of mind, you know. Iâll tell you what I do, and Iâm often called up, you know; at our agriculturals I always propose the farmersâ daughters: well, what I do is thisâ âI keep my eye steadfastly fixed on one of the bottles, and never move it.â
âOn one of the bottles!â said Frank; âwouldnât it be better if I made a mark of some old coveyâs head? I donât like looking at the table.â
âThe old coveyâd move, and then youâd be done; besides there isnât the least use in the world in looking up. Iâve heard people say, who go to those sort of dinners every day of their lives, that whenever anything witty is said; the fellow who says it is sure to be looking at the mahogany.â
âOh, you know I shanât say anything witty; Iâll be quite the other way.â
âBut thereâs no reason you shouldnât learn the manner. Thatâs the way I succeeded. Fix your eye on one of the bottles; put your thumbs in your waistcoat pockets; stick out your elbows, bend your knees a little, and then go ahead.â
âOh, ah! go ahead; thatâs all very well; but you canât go ahead if you havenât got any steam.â
âA very little does it. There can be nothing so easy as your speech. When one has to say something new every year about the farmersâ daughters, why one has to use oneâs brains a bit. Letâs see: how will you begin? Of course, youâll say that you are not accustomed to this sort of thing; that the honour conferred upon you is too much for your feelings; that the bright array of beauty and talent around you quite overpowers your tongue, and all that sort of thing. Then declare youâre a Gresham to the backbone.â
âOh, they know that.â
âWell, tell them again. Then of course you must say something about us; or youâll have the countess as black as old Nick.â
âAbut my aunt, George? What on earth can I say about her when sheâs there herself before me?â
âBefore you! of course; thatâs just the reason. Oh, say any lie you can think of; you must say something about us. You know weâve come down from London on purpose.â
Frank, in spite of the benefit he was receiving from his cousinâs erudition, could not help wishing in his heart that they had all remained in London; but this he kept to himself. He thanked his cousin for his hints, and though he did not feel that the trouble of his mind was completely cured, he began to hope that he might go through the ordeal without disgracing himself.
Nevertheless, he felt rather sick at heart when Mr. Baker got up to propose the toast as soon as the servants were gone. The servants, that is, were gone officially; but they were there in a body, men and women, nurses, cooks, and ladiesâ maids, coachmen, grooms, and footmen, standing in two doorways to hear what Master Frank would say. The old housekeeper headed the maids at one door, standing boldly inside the room; and the butler controlled the men at the other, marshalling them back with a drawn corkscrew.
Mr. Baker did not say much; but what he did say, he said well. They had all seen Frank Gresham grow up from a child; and were now required to welcome as a man amongst them one who was well qualified to carry on the honour of that loved and respected family. His young friend, Frank, was every inch a Gresham. Mr. Baker omitted to make mention of the infusion of de Courcy blood, and the countess, therefore, drew herself up on her chair and looked as though she were extremely bored. He then alluded tenderly to his own long friendship with the present squire, Francis Newbold Gresham the elder; and sat down, begging them to drink health, prosperity, long life, and an excellent wife to their dear young friend, Francis Newbold Gresham the younger.
There was a great jingling of glasses, of course; made the merrier and the louder by the fact that the ladies were still there as well as the gentlemen. Ladies donât drink toasts frequently; and, therefore, the occasion coming rarely was the more enjoyed. âGod bless you, Frank!â âYour good health, Frank!â âAnd especially a good wife, Frank!â âTwo or three of them, Frank!â âGood health and prosperity to you, Mr. Gresham!â âMore power to you, Frank, my boy!â âMay God bless you and preserve you, my dear boy!â and then a merry, sweet, eager voice from the far end of the table, âFrank! Frank! Do look at me, pray do Frank; I am drinking your health in real wine; ainât I, papa?â Such were the addresses which greeted Mr. Francis Newbold Gresham the younger as he essayed to rise up on his feet for the first time since he had come to manâs estate.
When the clatter was at an end, and he was fairly on his legs, he cast a glance before him on the table, to look for a decanter. He had not much liked his cousinâs theory of sticking to the bottle; nevertheless, in the difficulty of the moment, it was well to have any system to go by. But, as misfortune would have it, though the table was covered with bottles, his eye could not catch one.
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