you think you could--eh, Harry?--manage a pint for me, my dear?'
Andrew humbly petitioned. 'This cold water--ha! ha! my stomach don't like
cold bathing.'

His wretched joke rebounded from the impenetrable armour of the ladies.

'The wine-cellar is locked,' said his wife. 'I have sealed up the key
till an inventory can be taken by some agent of the creditors.'

'What creditors?' roared Andrew.

'You can have some of the servants' beer,' Mrs. Cogglesby appended.

Andrew studied her face to see whether she really was not hoisting him
with his own petard. Perceiving that she was sincerely acting according
to her sense of principle, he fumed, and departed to his privacy, unable
to stand it any longer.

Then like a kite the Countess pounced upon his character. Would the
Honourable and Reverend Mr. Duflian decline to participate in the sparest
provender? Would he be guilty of the discourtesy of leaving table without
a bow or an apology, even if reduced to extremest poverty? No, indeed!
which showed that, under all circumstances, a gentleman was a gentleman.
And, oh! how she pitied her poor Harriet--eternally tied to a most vulgar
little man, without the gilding of wealth.

'And a fool in his business to boot, dear!'

'These comparisons do no good,' said Harriet. 'Andrew at least is not a
renegade, and never shall be while I live. I will do my duty by him,
however poor we are. And now, Louisa, putting my husband out of the
question, what are your intentions? I don't understand bankruptcy, but I
imagine they can do nothing to wife and children. My little ones must
have a roof over their heads; and, besides, there is little Maxwell. You
decline to go down to Lymport, of course.'

'Decline!' cried the Countess, melodiously; 'and do not you?'

'As far as I am concerned--yes. But I am not to think of myself.'

The Countess meditated, and said: 'Dear Mr. Duflian has offered me
his hospitality. Renegades are not absolutely inhuman. They may be
generous. I have no moral doubt that Mr. Duflian would, upon my
representation--dare I venture?'

'Sleep in his house! break bread with him!' exclaimed Harriet. 'What do
you think I am made of? I would perish--go to the workhouse, rather!'

'I see you trooping there,' said the Countess, intent on the vision.

'And have you accepted his invitation for yourself, Louisa?'

The Countess was never to be daunted by threatening aspects. She gave her
affirmative with calmness and a delib