was something beyond a joke, this! The intruder, perfectly
docile, seeing that by accurate calculation every shake he got involved a
bottle of wine for him, and ultimate compensation probably to the amount
of a couple of sovereigns, allowed himself to be lugged up stairs, in
default of summary ejection on the point of Andrew's toe into the street.
There he was faced to the lady of the house, who apologized to him, and
requested her husband to state what had made him guilty of this indecent
behaviour. The man showed his papers. They were quite in order. 'At the
suit of Messrs. Grist.'

'My own lawyers!' cried Andrew, smacking his forehead; and Old Tom's
devilry flashed on him at once. He sank into a chair.

'Why did you bring this person up here?' said Harriet, like a speaking
statue.

'My dear!' Andrew answered, and spread out his hand, and waggled his
head; 'My--please!--I--I don't know. We all want exercise.'

The man laughed, which was kindly of him, but offensive to Mrs.
Cogglesby, who gave Andrew a glance which was full payment for his
imbecile pleasantry, and promised more.

With a hospitable inquiry as to the condition of his appetite, and a
request that he would be pleased to satisfy it to the full, the man was
dismissed: whereat, as one delivered of noxious presences, the Countess
rustled into sight. Not noticing Andrew, she lisped to Harriet:
'Misfortunes are sometimes no curses! I bless the catarrh that has
confined Silva to his chamber, and saved him from a bestial exhibition.'

The two ladies then swept from the room, and left Andrew to perspire at
leisure.

Fresh tribulations awaited him when he sat down to dinner. Andrew liked
his dinner to be comfortable, good, and in plenty. This may not seem
strange. The fact is stated that I may win for him the warm sympathies of
the body of his countrymen. He was greeted by a piece of cold boiled neck
of mutton and a solitary dish of steaming potatoes. The blank expanse of
table-cloth returned his desolate stare.

'Why, what's the meaning of this?' Andrew brutally exclaimed, as he
thumped the table.

The Countess gave a start, and rolled a look as of piteous supplication
to spare a lady's nerves, addressed to a ferocious brigand. Harriet
answered: 'It means that I will have no butcher's bills.'

'Butcher's bills! butcher's bills!' echoed Andrew; 'why, you must have
butcher's bills; why, confound! why, you'll have a bill for this, won't
you, Harry? eh? of