The night succeeding the conversation we have just recorded, was
'assembly night.' The double-fly was ordered to be at the door of Oak
Lodge at nine o'clock precisely. The Miss Maldertons were dressed in
sky-blue satin trimmed with artificial flowers; and Mrs. M. (who was a
little fat woman), in ditto ditto, looked like her eldest daughter
multiplied by two. Mr. Frederick Malderton, the eldest son, in
full-dress costume, was the very _beau ideal_ of a smart waiter; and Mr.
Thomas Malderton, the youngest, with his white dress-stock, blue coat,
bright buttons, and red watch-ribbon, strongly resembled the portrait of
that interesting, but rash young gentleman, George Barnwell. Every
member of the party had made up his or her mind to cultivate the
acquaintance of Mr. Horatio Sparkins. Miss Teresa, of course, was to be
as amiable and interesting as ladies of eight-and-twenty on the look-out
for a husband, usually are. Mrs. Malderton would be all smiles and
graces. Miss Marianne would request the favour of some verses for her
album. Mr. Malderton would patronise the great unknown by asking him to
dinner. Tom intended to ascertain the extent of his information on the
interesting topics of snuff and cigars. Even Mr. Frederick Malderton
himself, the family authority on all points of taste, dress, and
fashionable arrangement; who had lodgings of his own in town; who had a
free admission to Covent-garden theatre; who always dressed according to
the fashions of the months; who went up the water twice a-week in the
season; and who actually had an intimate friend who once knew a gentleman
who formerly lived in the Albany,--even he had determined that Mr.
Horatio Sparkins must be a devilish good fellow, and that he would do him
the honour of challenging him to a game at billiards.

The first object that met the anxious eyes of the expectant family on
their entrance into the ball-room, was the interesting Horatio, with his
hair brushed off his forehead, and his eyes fixed on the ceiling,
reclining in a contemplative attitude on one of the seats.

'There he is, my dear,' whispered Mrs. Malderton to Mr. Malderton.

'How like Lord Byron!' murmured Miss Teresa.

'Or Montgomery!' whispered Miss Marianne.

'Or the portraits of Captain Cook!' suggested Tom.

'Tom--don't be an ass!' said his father, who checked him on all
occasions, probably with a view to prevent his becoming 'sharp'--which
was very unnecessary.

The elegant