an, and
constantly reminds me of my poor dear aunt Martha, who is a peaceful
saint in Brixton churchyard, after this vale of tears, where we must all
go, only she hadn't two thousand pounds a year, though she was so lucky
at short whist, always turning up honours when she liked."

"Trump of a partner she must have been, and no mistake!" said Lawless
enthusiastically. "I suppose she didn't leave the recipe behind her,
ma'am?"

"No, Mr. Fairless, no! at least I never heard she did, though I've got
a recipe of hers for cherry-brandy, which she was so fond of, and a very
good one it is, poor thing! But Mr. Brown, you see, with his fortune,
might look so much higher, that, as Mr. Coleman says, it's a chance she
may never have again, and it would be madness to throw it away, in her
circumstances too."

"Did Mr. Brown think of marrying your aunt, then, ma'am?" asked Lawless
with an air of would-be innocence.

"No, my dear--I mean, Mr. Lawlegh, no--she died, and he went to Merchant
Tailor's School together, that is in the same year; we were making it
out last night--no, it's Lucy, poor dear, and a famous thing it is for
her, only I'm afraid she can't bear the sight of him."

[Illustration: page430 Mammon Worship]

At this moment Mr. Coleman returned, and Lawless, giving me a sly
glance, accosted him with a face of the most perfect gravity, begging
the favour of a few minutes' private conversation with him, a request
which that gentleman, with a slight appearance of surprise, immediately
granted, and they left the room together.

During their absence, good Mrs. Coleman confided to ~431~~ me, with much
circumlocution, her own private opinion, that Lucy and Mr. Brown were by
no means suited to each other, "because, you see, Mr. Fairless, my dear,
Lucy's clever, and says sharp funny things that make one laugh, what
they call _piquante_, you know, and poor Mr. Brown, he's very quiet and
good-natured, but he's not used to that sort of thing; and she, what you
call, laughs at him"; ending with a confession that she thought Freddy
and Lucy were made for each other, and that she had always hoped some
day to see them married.

Dear, kind-hearted, puzzle-headed little woman! how I longed to comfort
her, by giving her a glimpse behind the scenes! but it would have
entailed certain ruin; she would have made confusion worse confounded of
the best laid scheme that Machiavelli ever concocted.

When Lawless and Mr. Coleman returned f