a shilling? How am
I to go traipsing to Kensington in my yellow satin sack before all the
fine company? I've nothing fit to put on; I never have:" and so the
dispute went on--Mr. Esmond interrupting the talk when it seemed to be
growing too intimate by blowing his nose as loudly as ever he could,
at the sound of which trumpet there came a lull. But Dick was charming,
though his wife was odious, and 'twas to give Mr. Steele pleasure, that
the ladies of Castlewood, who were ladies of no small fashion, invited
Mrs. Steele.

Besides the Captain and his lady, there was a great and notable
assemblage of company: my Lady of Chelsey having sent her lackeys
and liveries to aid the modest attendance at Kensington. There was
Lieutenant-General Webb, Harry's kind patron, of whom the Dowager
took possession, and who resplended in velvet and gold lace; there was
Harry's new acquaintance, the Right Honorable Henry St. John, Esquire,
the General's kinsman, who was charmed with the Lady Castlewood, even
more than with her daughter; there was one of the greatest noblemen in
the kingdom, the Scots Duke of Hamilton, just created Duke of Brandon
in England; and two other noble lords of the Tory party, my Lord
Ashburnham, and another I have forgot; and for ladies, her Grace the
Duchess of Ormonde and her daughters, the Lady Mary and the Lady Betty,
the former one of Mistress Beatrix's colleagues in waiting on the Queen.

"What a party of Tories!" whispered Captain Steele to Esmond, as we were
assembled in the parlor before dinner. Indeed, all the company present,
save Steele, were of that faction.

Mr. St. John made his special compliments to Mrs. Steele, and so charmed
her that she declared she would have Steele a Tory too.

"Or will you have me a Whig?" says Mr. St. John. "I think, madam, you
could convert a man to anything."

"If Mr. St. John ever comes to Bloomsbury Square I will teach him what
I know," says Mrs. Steele, dropping her handsome eyes. "Do you know
Bloomsbury Square?"

"Do I know the Mall? Do I know the Opera? Do I know the reigning toast?
Why, Bloomsbury is the very height of the mode," says Mr. St. John.
"'Tis rus in urbe. You have gardens all the way to Hampstead, and
palaces round about you--Southampton House and Montague House."

"Where you wretches go and fight duels," cries Mrs. Steele.

"Of which the ladies are the cause!" says her entertainer. "Madam, is
Dick a good swordsman? How charming the 'Tatler' is!