astle; what the young ladies wore,
and if they had those odious _gigot_ sleeves which were just coming in
then; and here Mrs. R. looked at a pair of large mottled arms that she
was very proud of.

"I say, Sam my boy!" cried, in the midst of our talk, Mr. Roundhand, who
had been passing the port-wine round pretty freely, "I hope you looked to
the main chance, and put in a few shares of the West Diddlesex,--hey?"

"Mr. Roundhand, have you put up the decanters downstairs?" cries the
lady, quite angry, and wishing to stop the conversation.

"No, Milly, I've emptied 'em," says R.

"Don't Milly me, sir! and have the goodness to go down and tell Lancy my
maid" (_a look at me_) "to make the tea in the study. We have a
gentleman here who is not _used_ to Pentonville ways" (_another look_);
"but he won't mind the ways of _friends_." And here Mrs. Roundhand
heaved her very large chest, and gave me a third look that was so severe,
that I declare to goodness it made me look quite foolish. As to Gus, she
never so much as spoke to him all the evening; but he consoled himself
with a great lot of muffins, and sat most of the evening (it was a cruel
hot summer) whistling and talking with Roundhand on the verandah. I
think I should like to have been with them,--for it was very close in the
room with that great big Mrs. Roundhand squeezing close up to one on the
sofa.

"Do you recollect what a jolly night we had here last summer?" I heard
Hoskins say, who was leaning over the balcony, and ogling the girls
coming home from church. "You and me with our coats off, plenty of cold
rum-and-water, Mrs. Roundhand at Margate, and a whole box of Manillas?"

"Hush!" said Roundhand, quite eagerly; "Milly will hear."

But Milly didn't hear: for she was occupied in telling me an immense long
story about her waltzing with the Count de Schloppenzollern at the City
ball to the Allied Sovereigns; and how the Count had great large white
moustaches; and how odd she thought it to go whirling round the room with
a great man's arm round your waist. "Mr. Roundhand has never allowed it
since our marriage--never; but in the year 'fourteen it was considered a
proper compliment, you know, to pay the sovereigns. So twenty-nine young
ladies, of the best families in the City of London, I assure you, Mr.
Titmarsh--there was the Lord Mayor's own daughters; Alderman Dobbins's
gals; Sir Charles Hopper's three, who have the great house in Baker
Street; and your