go
and leave him to be insulted, ordered about, and trodden upon by
a breeches-maker. "Get me a bit of steak, will you?" demanded
Neefit;--"a bit of the rump, not too much done, with the gravy in
it,--and an onion. What are you staring at? Didn't you hear what your
master said to you?"

"Onion,--and romp-steak!"

"Yes; rump-steak and onion. I ain't going out of this till I've had a
bit of grub. Your master knows all about it. I'm going to have more
nor that out of him before I've done with him."

Neefit did at last succeed, and had his rump-steak and onion,
together with more brandy and soda-water, eating and drinking as he
sat in Ralph's beautiful new easy chair,--not very much to his own
comfort. A steak at the Prince's Feathers in Conduit Street would
have been very much more pleasant to him, and he would have preferred
half-and-half in the pewter to brandy and soda-water;--but he felt a
pride in using his power in a fashion that would be disgraceful to
his host. When he had done his steak he pulled his pipe out of his
pocket, and smoked. Against this Adolphe remonstrated stoutly, but
quite in vain. "The Captain won't mind a little baccy-smoke out of my
pipe," he said. "He always has his smoke comfortable when he comes
down to me." At last, about four o'clock, he did go away, assuring
Adolphe that he would repeat his visit very soon. "I means to see
a deal of the Captain this season," he said. At last, however, he
retreated, and Adolphe opened the door of the house for him without
speaking a word. "Bye, bye," said Neefit. "I'll be here again before
long."

Ralph on that afternoon came home to dress for dinner at about seven,
in great fear lest Neefit should still be found in his rooms. "No,
saar; he go away at last!" said Adolphe, with a melancholy shake of
his head.

"Has he done much harm?"

"The Apollo gone!--and he had romp-steak,--and onions,--and a pipe.
Vat vas I to do? I hope he vill never come again." And so also did
Mr. Newton hope that Neefit would never come again.

He was going to dine with Lady Eardham, the wife of a Berkshire
baronet, who had three fair daughters. At this period of his life he
found the aristocracy of Berkshire and Hampshire to be very civil to
him; and, indeed, the world at large was disposed to smile on him.
But there was very much in his lot to make him unhappy. He had on
that morning been utterly rejected by Clarissa Underwood. It may,
perhaps, be true that he was not a