ome
down from the upper region. A tender laugh of benevolence lighted up old
Dobbin's face and eyes as he looked at the repentant little prodigal. He
loved the boy very deeply.

If there was a sincere liking between George and the Major, it must be
confessed that between the boy and his Uncle Joseph no great love
existed. George had got a way of blowing out his cheeks, and putting his
hands in his waistcoat pockets, and saying, "God bless my soul, you don't
say so," so exactly after the fashion of old Jos, that it was impossible
to refrain from laughter. The servants would explode at dinner if the
lad, asking for something which wasn't at table, put on that countenance
and used that favourite phrase. Even Dobbin would shoot out a sudden peal
at the boy's mimicry. If George did not mimic his uncle to his face, it
was only by Dobbin's rebukes and Amelia's terrified entreaties that the
little scapegrace was induced to desist. And Joseph, having a dim
consciousness that the lad thought him an ass, and was inclined to turn
him into ridicule, used to be of course doubly pompous and dignified in
the presence of Master George. When it was announced that the young
gentleman was expected to dine with his mother, Mr. Jos commonly found
that he had an engagement at the Club, and perhaps nobody was much
grieved at his absence.

Before long Amelia had a visiting-book, and was driving about regularly
in a carriage, from which a buttony boy sprang from the box with Amelia's
and Jos's visiting cards. At stated hours Emmy and the carriage went to
the Club, and took Jos for an airing; or, putting old Sedley into the
vehicle, she drove the old man round the Regent's Park. We are not long
in growing used to changes in life. Her lady's-maid and the chariot, her
visiting book, and the buttony page became soon as familiar to Amelia as
the humble routine of Brompton. She accommodated herself to one as to the
other, and entertained Jos's friends with the same unselfish charm with
which she cared for and amused old John Sedley.

Then came the day when that poor old man closed his eyes on the familiar
scenes of earth, and Major Dobbin, Jos, and George followed his
remains-to the grave in a black cloth coach. "You see," said old Osborne
to George, when the burial was over, "what comes of merit and industry
and good speculation, and that. Look at me and my bank account. Look at
your poor Grandfather Sedley, and his failure. And yet he was a better