ing my venture. But there was no drawing back
now. Letters or messages came from the rest of the "usual lot"--the
Twins, Flanagan, the Field-Marshal, Daly, and Whipcord, every one of
them saying they'd be there. Yes, there was nothing left but to go
through with it.

The next two days were two of the most anxious days I ever spent. I was
running about all one afternoon (when I ought to have been delivering
bills of lading), inquiring the prices of lobsters, pork-pies, oranges,
and other delicacies, arranging for the hire of cups and saucers,
ordering butter and eggs, and jam, and other such arduous and delicate
duties. Then I spent the evening in discussing with myself the
momentous questions whether I should lay in tea-cakes or penny buns,
whether I need have brown bread as well as white, whether Mrs Nash's
tea would be good enough, whether I should help my great dish--the eel-
pie--myself, or trust it to one of the company to do.

These and similar momentous matters engaged my thoughts. And it began
to dawn on me further that my financial estimates had been greatly out,
and that my supper would cost me nearer a pound than ten shillings.
Never mind. After all, was I not worth twelve shillings a week? I
needn't trouble about the expense. Besides, the pastrycook had agreed
to give me credit, so that really I should have comparatively little to
pay down.

A far more serious anxiety was Mrs Nash. It required constant and most
assiduous attention to keep her in good temper. And the nearer the time
came the more touchy she got. If I suggested anything, she took it as a
personal slight to herself; if I was bold enough to differ from her, she
was mortally offended; if I ventured to express the slightest
impatience, she turned crusty and threatened to let me shift for myself.
The affair, too, naturally got wind amongst my fellow-lodgers, who one
and all avowed that they would not give up their right to the parlour,
and indulged in all manner of witticisms at my cost and the cost of my
party. I pacified them as best I could by promising them the reversion
of the feast, and took meekly all their gibes and jests when they begged
to be allowed to come in to dessert and hear the speeches, or
volunteered to come and hand round the champagne, or clear away the
"turtle-soup," and so on.

But the nearer the fatal day came the more dejected and nervous I got.
Mrs Nash's parlour was really a disreputable sort of room, and