THE SIX Of SPADES. 69 



I must tell you, first of all, that a real shower, 

 material, not metaphorical, had just refreshed the 

 earth, and all the leaves of the glossy evergreens were 

 shining, " as if" (Mrs. Verjuice beautifully said) 

 " every one of 'em had been French-polished," when 

 Miss Susan went forth to speak her mind. Poor 

 Joseph's mocking bird was singing on the tree, as though 

 he had wet his whistle to some purpose, and had 

 clarified and strengthened his throat with raindrops, 

 as the operatic songstress with stout. 



" Then Ida, with a voice that like a bell, 

 Tolled by an earthquake, in a tumbling tower, 

 Bang ruin, answered, full of grief and scorn." 



"Grundy," she said (he told me subsequently, with 

 intense pathos, that she had not addressed him by his 

 surname since he upset " them gold fishes " fifteen 

 years ago, and he would much have preferred that 

 she had commenced with " Pickpocket ") ; " Grundy, 

 be good enough to listen to that flute, and tell me 

 which particular tones are inferior in sweetness to 

 your big bassoon. And tell me at the same time, Mr. 

 Joseph " (he would repeat the " Mr." with an extreme 

 disgust, as though it were an epithet too vile and 

 dreadful for any but the most confirmed garotters), 

 " tell me why that chorister in his black cassock 

 should not sing his anthems all the year round, as 

 you once a-week in the choir. It may be my want of 

 taste, Joseph Grundy, but I prefer the tune which 

 he is now singing to any which I have heard you 

 play. Shoot the Blackbirds ! Kill our Minnesingers ! 



