u?"

"My name is Horace," said "my man," blushing very decidedly, and
retreating precipitately to a far corner of the room.

"Ah, dear me! And my 'usband's name, Mrs Cruden, was 'Oward. I never
'ear the name without affliction."

This was very awkward, for as the unfortunate widow could not fail to
hear her own voice, it was necessary for consistency's sake that she
should show some emotion, which she proceeded to do, when her daughter
hurriedly interposed in an audible whisper, "Ma, don't make a goose of
yourself! Behave yourself, do!"

"So I am be'aving myself, Jemima," replied the outraged parent, "and I
don't need lessons from you."

"It's very kind of you to call in," said Mrs Cruden, feeling it time to
say something; "do you live near here?"

"We live next door, at number four," said Miss Jemima; "put that
handkerchief away, ma."

"What next, I wonder! if my 'andkerchief's not my hown, I'd like to know
what is? Yes, Mrs Cruden. We heard you were coming, and we wish to
treat you with consideration, knowing your circumstances. It's all one
gentlefolk can do to another. Yes, and I 'ope the boys will be good
friends. Sam, talk to the boys."

Sam needed no such maternal encouragement, as it happened, and had
already swaggered up to Horace with a familiar air.

"Jolly weather, ain't it?"

"Yes," said Horace, looking round wildly for any avenue of escape, but
finding none.

"Pretty hot in your shop, ain't it?" said the lawyer's clerk.

"Yes," again said Horace, with a peculiar tingling sensation in his toes
which his visitor little dreamed of.

Horace was not naturally a short-tempered youth, but there was something
in the tone of this self-satisfied lawyer's clerk which raised his
dander.

"Not much of a berth, is it?" pursued the catechist.

"No," said Horace.

"Not a very chirrupy screw, so I'm told--eh?"

This was rather too much. Either Horace must escape by flight, which
would be ignominious, or he must knock his visitor down, which would be
rude, or he must grin and bear it. The middle course was what he most
inclined to, but failing that, he decided on the latter.

So he shook his head and waited patiently for the next question.

"What do you do, eh? dirty work, ain't it?"

"Yes, isn't yours?" said Horace, in a tone that rather surprised the
limb of the law.

"Mine? No. What makes you ask that?" he inquired.

"Only because I thought I'd like to know," said Horace artlessly