Here it was that Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass were seated on the evening after the conclusion of the election, with several other temporary inmates of the house, smoking and drinking.

“Well, gents,” said a stout, hale personage of about forty, with only one eye⁠—a very bright black eye, which twinkled with a roguish expression of fun and good-humour, “our noble selves, gents. I always propose that toast to the company, and drink Mary to myself. Eh, Mary!”

“Get along with you, you wretch,” said the handmaiden, obviously not ill-pleased with the compliment, however.

“Don’t go away, Mary,” said the black-eyed man.

“Let me alone, imperence,” said the young lady.