“Good mornin’ to you,” said Miss Lachevers, introducing her body as well as her head—“cool mornin’ this.”
“Rather,” replied Mr. Brigs senior, laying down the paper and rubbing the palms of his hands hard enough together to erase the skin. “Come to the fire, Betty—be seated—have off your bonnet.”
The finishing clause of this address proceeded from the voluble tongue of Mrs. Brigs; and Nanny arose from her seat to hand Miss Lachevers a chair.
“Don’t trouble yourself, child—I never have time to sit. I must go back in one second. It’s trot, trot, from mornin’ till night, with me. I just stepped in,” she continued, turning her eyes on Mrs. Brigs, “to ask you all if you’ve hearn the news?”
“What news?” inquired Mr. Brigs senior, glancing first at the paper on the chair and then at the early visiter—“any body dead or dying—or any steamship busted—or any thing of that species?”
“Oh, no!” said Miss Lachevers, “nothin’ of that are character. But somethin’ more important and _novel_ than either.”
All eyes were now turned toward the significant countenance of Miss Betty Lachevers, who still remained standing. Mr. Brigs senior, not exactly understanding the application of the word “novel” to the sudden intelligence of any thing new—having never heard it applied to any thing but a book—requested Miss Lachevers to explain herself. Mrs. Brigs insisted that Betty should take a chair and tell all about it; and Solomon and Nanny continued their reading, as if nothing _novel_ was going on.
“Why, raly,” said Miss Lachevers, drawing a seat, and depositing her person thereon, “I haint hardly got time to tell you. But it’s wonderful to think of. The fact is, a young schoolmaster arrived in town last night, and I hear it’s his intention to set up a school here for the eddication of youth; and the worst of all is, nobody knows who he is, or where he come from. His name I heered, but I almost forgot it—it’s Dubbs—or Grubbs—or Dobbs—or somethin’ like that. They say he’s a wonderful genus, smart as can be, and full of larning. He stopped at old Jenkins’s, cross the way—whether he means to board there _I_ can’t say—but there he is. I s’pose we’ll get a peep at him to-day. For my part, I should like to know why he put up at old Jenkins’s.”