man's impertinence;
and that she considered it important that he should be, by some means,
forced to give up his authority for making distinctions between that
family and other wealthy families. What the reasons of his presumption
could be, she was at a loss to imagine; but reasons he must have, and
they ought to be torn from him.

All the guides, mule-drivers, and idlers in the yard, had made
themselves parties to the angry conference, and were much impressed by
the courier's now bestirring himself to get the carriages out. With the
aid of some dozen people to each wheel, this was done at a great cost of
noise; and then the loading was proceeded with, pending the arrival of
the horses from the post-house.

But the very genteel lady's English chariot being already horsed and at
the inn-door, the landlord had slipped up-stairs to represent his hard
case. This was notified to the yard by his now coming down the staircase
in attendance on the gentleman and the lady, and by his pointing out the
offended majesty of Mr Dorrit to them with a significant motion of his
hand.

'Beg your pardon,' said the gentleman, detaching himself from the
lady, and coming forward. 'I am a man of few words and a bad hand at an
explanation--but lady here is extremely anxious that there should be no
Row. Lady--a mother of mine, in point of fact--wishes me to say that she
hopes no Row.'

Mr Dorrit, still panting under his injury, saluted the gentleman, and
saluted the lady, in a distant, final, and invincible manner.

'No, but really--here, old feller; you!' This was the gentleman's way of
appealing to Edward Dorrit, Esquire, on whom he pounced as a great and
providential relief. 'Let you and I try to make this all right. Lady so
very much wishes no Row.'

Edward Dorrit, Esquire, led a little apart by the button, assumed a
diplomatic expression of countenance in replying, 'Why you must confess,
that when you bespeak a lot of rooms beforehand, and they belong to you,
it's not pleasant to find other people in 'em.'

'No,' said the other, 'I know it isn't. I admit it. Still, let you and I
try to make it all right, and avoid Row. The fault is not this chap's
at all, but my mother's. Being a remarkably fine woman with no bigodd
nonsense about her--well educated, too--she was too many for this chap.
Regularly pocketed him.'

'If that's the case--' Edward Dorrit, Esquire, began.

'Assure you 'pon my soul 'tis the case. Consequently,' said the