attendance at
the midsummer auctions they had since done wonders. Captain Cai had
acquired, among other things, a refrigerator, a linen-press, and a set
of 'The Encyclopaedia Britannica' (edition of 1881); Captain 'Bias a
poultry run (in sections) and a framed engraving of "The Waterloo
Banquet,"--of which, strange to say, he found himself possessor directly
through his indifference to art; for, oppressed by the heat of the
saleroom, he had yielded to brief slumber (on his legs) while the
pictures were being disposed of, and awaking at the sound of his own
name was aware that he had secured this bargain by an untimely and
unpremeditated nod.

Such small accidents, however, are a part of the fun of
house-furnishing. On the whole our two friends had bought judiciously,
and now looking around them, could say that their experiment had
hitherto prospered; that, so far, the world was kind.

Especially were they fortunate (thanks to Fancy Tabb) precisely where
bachelor householders are apt to miss good fortune--in the matter of
domestic service. The boy Palmerston, to be sure, suffered from a
trick--acquired (Fancy assured them) under workhouse treatment and
eradicable by time and gentle handling--of bursting into tears upon
small provocation or none. But Mrs Bowldler was a treasure. Of this
there could be no manner of doubt; and in nothing so patently as in
relation with the boy Palmerston did the gold in Mrs Bowldler's nature--
the refined gold--reveal itself.

It was suspected that she had once been a kitchen-maid in the West End
of London: but a discreet veil hung over this past, and she never lifted
it save by whatever of confession might be read into the words,
"When we were in residence in Eaton Square,"--with which she preluded
all reminiscences (and they were frequent) of the great metropolis.
Her true test as a good woman she passed when--although she must have
known the truth, being a confirmed innocent gossip--she chose to extend
the same veil, or a corner of it, over the antecedents of Palmerston.
She said--

"The past is often enveloped. In the best families it is notoriously
so. We know what we are, an' may speckilate on what we was; but what
we're to be, who can possibly tell? It might give us the creeps."

She said again: "Every man carries a button in his knapsack, by which he
may rise sooner or later to higher things. It was said by a Frenchman,
and a politer nation you would not find."

Ag