They were getting accustomed to them now,
and there was not a great deal to say, unless they repeated
themselves, which they had no objection to do. Their attitude was one
of tolerant skepticism, tempered by an agreeable tendency on the part
of Miss Baker to become agitated after a certain point. Mr. Vincent,
it was generally conceded, was a respectable sort of man, with an air
about him that could hardly be put into words, and it was thought to
be a pity that he lent himself to such superstition. Mrs. Stapleton
had been long ago dismissed as a silly sort of woman, though with a
will of her own; and her ladyship, of course, must have her way; it
could not last long, it was thought.
But young Mr. Baxter was another matter, and there was a deal to say
about him. He was a gentleman--that was certain; and he seemed to have
sense; but it was a pity that he was so often here now on this
business. He had not said one word to Mr. Parker this evening as he
took off his coat; Mr. Parker had not thought that he looked very
well.
"He was too quiet-like," said the butler.
As to the details of the affair upstairs--these were considered in a
purely humorous light. It was understood that tables danced a
hornpipe, and that tambourines were beaten by invisible hands; and it
was not necessary to go further into principles, particularly since
all these things were done by machinery at the Egyptian Hall.
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