isket and I was always friends. I'm not going to
quarrel with Brisket because Georgy Robinson is afraid of him. I knew
how it would be with Robinson when he didn't stand up to Brisket that
night at the Hall of Harmony. What's a man worth if he won't stand up
for his young woman? If you hadn't stood up for me I wouldn't have
had you." And so ended that conversation.

"A hundred pounds down?" said Brisket to Jones the next day.

"Yes, and our bill for the remainder."

"The cash on the nail."

"Paid into your hand," said Jones.

"I think I should see my way," said Brisket; "at any rate I'll come
up on Saturday."

"Much better say to-morrow, or Friday."

"Can't. It's little Gogham Fair on Friday; and I always kills on
Thursday."

"Saturday will be very late."

"There'll be time enough if you've got the money ready. You've spoken
to old Brown, I suppose. I'll be up as soon after six on Saturday
evening as I can come. If Maryanne wants to see me, she'll find me
here. It won't be the first time."

Thus was it that among his enemies the happiness of Robinson's life
was destroyed. Against Brisket he breathes not a word. The course was
open to both of them; and if Brisket was the best horse, why, let him
win!

But in what words would it be right to depict the conduct of Jones?

CHAPTER XVII.

A TEA-PARTY IN BISHOPSGATE STREET.

If it shall appear to those who read these memoirs that there was
much in the conduct of Mr. Brown which deserves censure, let them
also remember how much there was in his position which demands pity.
In this short narrative it has been our purpose to set forth the
commercial doings of the house of Brown, Jones, and Robinson, rather
than the domestic life of the partners, and, therefore, it has been
impossible to tell of all the trials through which Mr. Brown passed
with his children. But those trials were very severe, and if Mr.
Brown was on certain points untrue to the young partner who trusted
him, allowances for such untruth must be made. He was untrue; but
there is one man, who, looking back upon his conduct, knows how to
forgive it.

The scenes upstairs at Magenta House during that first week in August
had been very terrible. Mr. Brown, in his anxiety to see his daughter
settled, had undoubtedly pledged himself to abandon the rooms in
which he lived, and to take lodgings elsewhere. To this promised
self-sacrifice Maryanne was resolved to keep him bound; and when some
hes