bored way. It was vain for me to try to lead the talk; I
could not have done it even if I had had the spirit, and there was
precious little spirit left now!

Doubleday began to look at his watch.

"Half-past seven. I say," said he, "time I was going. I've a
particular engagement at eight."

"Well, I'll go with you," said Whipcord; "I want to get something to
eat, and we can have supper together."

"Sorry we've got to go," said Doubleday. "Jolly evening, wasn't it,
Crow?"

I was too much humiliated and disgusted to notice their departure. To
have my grand entertainment sneered at and made fun of was bad enough,
but for two of my guests to leave my table for the avowed purpose of
getting something to eat was a little too much. I could barely be civil
to the rest and ask them to remain, and it was a real relief when they
one and all began to make some excuse for leaving.

So ended my famous supper-party, after which, for a season, I prudently
retired into private life.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

HOW MY FRIEND SMITH CAME BACK, AND TOLD ME A GREAT SECRET.

My grand evening party was over, but I had still my accounts for that
entertainment to square. And the result of that operation was
appalling. It was a fortnight since my salary had been raised, but so
far I had not a penny saved. The extra money had gone, I couldn't
exactly say how, in sundry "trifling expenditures," such as pomatum, a
scarf-pin, and a steel chain for my waistcoat, all of which it had
seemed no harm to indulge in, especially as they were very cheap, under
my altered circumstances.

On the strength of my new riches also I was already six shillings in
debt to the Oxford-shirt man, and four shillings in debt to the Twins,
who had paid my share in the boating expedition up the river. And now,
when I came to reckon up my liabilities for the supper, I found I owed
as much as eight shillings to the pastrycook and five shillings to the
grocer, besides having already paid two shillings for the unlucky
lobster (which to my horror and shame I found out after every one had
left had _not_ been fresh), one shilling for eggs, sixpence for shrimps,
and one-and-sixpence for the hire of the cups and saucers.

The ingenious reader will be able to arrive at a true estimate of my
financial position from these figures, and will see that so far, at any
rate, my increase of riches had not made me a wealthier man than when I
had lived within my income on eigh