To this entertainment, which apart from its own intrinsic merits, had
the additional choice quality, that it was in strict keeping with the
night, being both light and cool, Mr Pecksniff besought the company to
do full justice.
'Martin,' he said, 'will seat himself between you two, my dears, and
Mr Pinch will come by me. Let us drink to our new inmate, and may we be
happy together! Martin, my dear friend, my love to you! Mr Pinch, if you
spare the bottle we shall quarrel.'
And trying (in his regard for the feelings of the rest) to look as if
the wine were not acid and didn't make him wink, Mr Pecksniff did honour
to his own toast.
'This,' he said, in allusion to the party, not the wine, 'is a mingling
that repays one for much disappointment and vexation. Let us be merry.'
Here he took a captain's biscuit. 'It is a poor heart that never
rejoices; and our hearts are not poor. No!'
With such stimulants to merriment did he beguile the time, and do the
honours of the table; while Mr Pinch, perhaps to assure himself that
what he saw and heard was holiday reality, and not a charming dream, ate
of everything, and in particular disposed of the slim sandwiches to a
surprising extent.
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