The Blunders of a Bashful Man | Page 8

sitting
on my work. If you will rise, I will try and finish it before tea."
No help for it, and I arose, at the same moment dexterously slipping my
hand behind me and withdrawing the thorn in the flesh.
"Oh, dear, where is my needle?" said the young lady, anxiously
scrutinizing the crushed worsted-work.
I gave it to her with a blush. She burst out laughing.
"I don't wonder you had a stitch in your side," she remarked, shyly.
"Hem!" observed Fred very loud, "do you feel sew-sew, John?"
Just then Belle entered the parlor, looking as sweet as a pink, and
wearing the sash I had given her. She bowed to me very coquettishly
and announced tea.
"Too bad!" continued Fred; "you have broken the thread of Mr.
Flutter's discourse with Miss Smith. But I do not wish to inflict
needle-less pain, so I will not betray him."
"I hope Mr. Flutter is not in trouble again," said Belle quickly.
"Oh, no. Fred is only trying to say something sharp," said I.
"Come with me; I will take care of you, Mr. Flutter," said Belle, taking
my arm and marching me out into the sitting-room, where a long table
was heaped full of inviting eatables. She sat me down by her side, and I
felt comparatively safe. But Fred and Miss Smith were just opposite
and they disconcerted me.
"Mr. Flutter," said the hostess when it came my turn, "will you have tea
or coffee?"

"Yes'm," said I.
"Tea or coffee?"
"If you please," said I.
"Which?" whispered Belle.
"Oh, excuse me; coffee, ma'am."
"Cream and sugar, Mr. Flutter?"
"I'm not particular which, Mrs. Jones."
"Do you take both?" she persisted, with everybody at the table looking
my way.
"No, ma'am, only coffee," said I, my face the color of the beet-pickles.
She finally passed me a cup, and, in my embarrassment, I immediately
took a swallow and burnt my mouth.
"Have you lost any friends lately?" asked that wretched Fred, seeing
the tears in my eyes.
I enjoyed that tea-party as geese enjoy pate de fois gras. It was a
prolonged torment under the guise of pleasure. I refused everything I
wanted, and took everything I didn't want. I got a back of the cold
chicken; there was nothing of it but bone. I thought I must appear to be
eating it, and it slipped out from under my fork and flew into the dish
of preserved cherries.
We had strawberries. I am very partial to strawberries and cream. I got
a saucer of the berries, and was looking about for the cream when Miss
Smith's mother, at my right hand, said:
"Mr. Flutter, will you have some whip with your strawberries?"
Whip with my berries! I thought she was making fun of me, and

stammered:
"No, I thank you," and so I lost the delicious frothed cream that I
coveted.
The agony of the thing was drawing to a close. I was longing for the
time when I could go home and get some cold potatoes out of mother's
cupboard. I hadn't eaten worth a cent.
Pretty soon we all moved back our chairs and rose. I offered my arm to
Belle, as I supposed. Between the sitting-room and parlor there was a
little dark hall, and when we got in there I summoned up courage,
passed my arm around my fair partner, and gave her a hug.
"You ain't so bashful as you look," said she, and then we stepped into
the parlor, and I found I'd been squeezing Widow Jones' waist.
She gave me a look full of languishing sweetness that scared me nearly
to death. I thought of Mr. Pickwick and Mrs. Bardell. Visions of suits
for breaches of promise arose before my horrified vision. I glanced
wildly around in search of Belle; she was hanging on a young lawyer's
arm, and not looking at me.
"La, now, you needn't color up so," said the widow, coquettishly, "I
know what young men are."
She said it aloud, on purpose for Belle to hear. I felt like killing her. I
might have done it, but one thought restrained me--I should be hung for
murder, and I was too bashful to submit to so public an ordeal.
I hurried across the room to get rid of her. There was a young fellow
standing there who looked about as out-of-place as I felt. I thought I
would speak to him.
"Come," said I, "let us take a little promenade outside--the women are
too much for me."
He made no answer. I heard giggling and tittering breaking out all

around the room, like rash on a baby with the measles.
"Come on," said I; "like as not they're laughing at us."
"Look-a-here, you shouldn't speak to a fellow till you've