any grub, sit down.
Batch, old man, will you take that end of the table? you're used to
lobsters, I know."

Once more I blushed to the roots of my hair, as I obeyed in as
unconcerned a manner as I could.

"What's the joke about the lobster?" asked Hawkesbury, innocently.

I wished the ground would open and swallow me. Was that unlucky
lobster, then, to haunt me all the days of my life?

"There was no joke about it, I can tell you that!" said Whipcord, with a
significant grimace; "was there, Daly?"

"Well, I don't know," said Daly, looking mysterious; "there was one
rather good joke about it, if what I was told is true."

"What's that?" demanded the company.

"It was paid for!"

Don't you pity me, reader? I was obliged to join in the laugh, and
appear to enjoy it.

"They're rather down on you," said Hawkesbury, amiably.

"Oh, they like their little joke," said I.

"So they do--who's got the butter?" said Doubleday--"so does everybody--
hang it, the milk's burnt; don't you taste it burnt, Field-Marshal?
I'll give my old woman notice--so does everybody, except--the muffins,
please, Crow--except your precious friend Smith. I don't suppose he
ever enjoyed a joke in his life now, or--help yourself, Hawkesbury--or
saw one either, for the matter of that, notwithstanding his bull's-
eyes."

"I don't know," said I, relieved again to divert the talk from myself,
and glad at the same time to put in a mild word for my friend, "I think
Smith has a good deal of fun in him."

"I'd like to know where he keeps it," said Crow; "I never saw it."

"Oh! I did," said Hawkesbury, "at school. He was a very amusing fellow
at school, wasn't he, Batchelor? Did Batchelor ever tell you of the
great rebellion that he and Smith got up there?"

I had not told the story, and was there and then called upon to do so--
which I did, much to the gratification of the company.

"Why don't you bring this mysterious Mr Smith down to show to us one
evening?" asked Whipcord. "We're always hearing about him. I'd like to
see him, wouldn't you, Twins?"

"Very," replied Abel, who evidently had been thinking of something else.

"I'm not sure," said I, "whether he'd come out. I don't think he cares
much about visiting."

"I hope he doesn't think it's wrong to visit," said the Field-Marshal.

"No, not that," said I, sorry I had embarked on the subject; "but
somehow he doesn't get on, I think, in company."

"I should rather say he does