igher than he seemed to be, and those best
accustomed to the place used to call him the Poet. It must be
remembered that at this time Mrs. McCockerell was still alive, and
that as Sarah Jane had then become Mrs. Jones, Maryanne was her
mother's favourite, and destined to receive all her mother's gifts.
Of the name and person of William Brisket, George Robinson was then
in happy ignorance, and the first introduction between them took
place in the Hall of Harmony.

'Twas about eleven o'clock in the evening, when the light feet of
the happy dancers had already been active for some hour or so in the
worship of their favourite muse, that Robinson was standing up with
his arm round his fair one's waist, immediately opposite to the door
of entrance. His right arm still embraced her slight girdle, whilst
with his left hand he wiped the perspiration from his brow. She
leaned against him palpitating, for the motion of the music had been
quick, and there had been some amicable contest among the couples.
It is needless to say that George Robinson and Maryanne Brown had
suffered no defeat. At that moment a refreshing breeze of the night
air was wafted into the room from the opened door, and Robinson,
looking up, saw before him a sturdy, thickset man, with mottled beefy
face, and by his side there stood a spectre. "It's your sister,"
whispered he to Maryanne, in a tone of horror.

"Oh, laws! there's Bill," said she, and then she fainted. The
gentleman with the mottled face was indeed no other than Mr. Brisket,
the purveyor of meat, for whose arms Mrs. McCockerell had destined
the charms of her younger daughter. Conduct baser than that of Mrs.
Jones on this occasion is not perhaps recorded in history. She was no
friend of Brisket's. She had it not at heart to forward her mother's
views. At this period of their lives she and her mother never met.
But she had learned her sister's secret, and having it in her
power to crush her sister's happiness, had availed herself of the
opportunity.

"There he is," said she, quite aloud, so that the whole room should
hear. "He's a bill-sticker!" and she pointed the finger of scorn at
her sister's lover.

"I'm one who have always earned my own living," said Robinson, "and
never had occasion to hang on to any one." This he said knowing that
Jones's lodgings were paid for by Mr. Brown.

Hereupon Mr. Brisket walked across the room, and as he walked there
was a cloud of anger on his brow. "Perhaps,