realised what I was in for till now!

Horror of horrors! Who was to open the door, Mrs Nash, or I? We had
never settled that. And while I stood trembling amid my smoke and eel-
pie and half-boiled eggs, the knock was repeated--this time so long and
loud that it must have been heard all over the square. I could hear
voices and laughter outside. Some one asked, "Is this the shop?" and
another voice said, "Don't see his name on the door."

Then, terrified lest they should perpetrate another solo on the knocker,
I rushed out and opened the door myself, just as Mrs Nash, with her
face scarlet and her sleeves tucked up above the elbows, also appeared
in the passage.

They were all there; they had come down in a body. Oh, how shabby I
felt as I saw them there with their fine clothes and free-and-easy
manners!

"Hullo! here you are!" said Doubleday. "Found you out, then, at last.
Haven't been this way for an age, but knew it at once by the cats.
Hullo, is this your mother? How do, Mrs Batchelor. Glad to see you.
Allow me to introduce--"

"It's not my mother!" I cried, with a suppressed groan, pulling his
arm.

"Eh, not your mother?--your aunt, perhaps? How do you--"

"No, no," I whispered; "no relation."

"Not? That's a pity! She's a tidy-looking old body, too. I say, where
do you stick your hats, eh? I bag the door-handle; you hang yours on
the key, Crow. Come on in, you fellows. Here's a spree!"

Could anything be more distressing or humiliating? Mrs Nash, too
indignant for words, had vanished to her own kitchen, shutting the door
behind her with an ominous slam, and here was the hall chock-full of
staring, giggling fellows, with not a place to hang their hats, and
Doubleday already the self-constituted master of the ceremonies!

I mildly suggested they had better bring their hats inside, but they
insisted on "stacking" them, as the Field-marshal called it, in pyramid
form on the hall floor; and I let them have their way.

"Come in," I faltered presently, when this little diversion appeared to
be ended. As I led the way into the parlour my heart was in my boots
and no mistake.

They entered, all coughing very much at the smoke. What a seedy,
disreputable hole Mrs Nash's parlour appeared at that moment!

"I'm sorry the chimney's smoking," I said, "a--a--won't you sit down?"

This invitation, I don't know why, seemed only to add to the amusement
of the party. Daly proceeded to sit down on