riage was heard to stop before the door, and
the poet's eyes descended.

"I wonder who comes to see me," he said, "really now, in a chariot."

Verty, from his position, could see through the window.

"Why, it's the Apple Orchard chariot!" he said, "and there is Miss
Lavinia!"

At this announcement, Mr. Roundjacket's face assumed an expression of
dastardly guilt, and he avoided Verty's eye.

"Lavinia!" he murmured.

At the same moment a diminutive footman gave a rousing stroke with the
knocker, and delivered into the hands of the old woman, who opened the
door, a glass dish of delicacies such as are affected by sick persons.

With this came a message from the lady in the carriage, to the effect,
that her respects were presented to Mr. Roundjacket, whose sickness
she had heard of. Would he like the jelly?--she was passing--would be
every day. Please to send word if he was better.

While this message was being delivered, Roundjacket resembled an
individual caught in the act of felonious appropriation of his
neighbors' ewes. He did not look at Verty, but, with; a bad assumption
of nonchalance, bade the boy thank his mistress, and say that Mr.
Roundjacket would present his respects, in person, at Apple Orchard,
on the morrow. Would she excuse his not coming out?

This message was carried to the chariot, which soon afterwards drove
away.

Verty gazed after it.

"I say, Mr. Roundjacket," he observed, at length, "how funny it is for
Miss Lavinia to come to see you!"

"Hum!--hum!--we are--hum--ah--! The fact is, my dear Verty!" cried Mr.
Roundjacket, rising, and limping through a _pas seul_, in spite of his
rheumatism--"the fact is, I have been acting the most miserable and
deceptive way to you for the last hour. Yes, my dear boy! I am ashamed
of myself! Carried away by the pride of opinion, and that fondness
which bachelor's have for boasting, I have been deceiving you! But
it never shall be said that Robert Roundjacket refused the amplest
reparation. My reparation, my good Verty, is taking you into my
confidence. The fact is--yes, the fact really is--as aforesaid, or
rather as _not_ aforesaid, myself and the pleasing Miss Lavinia are to
be married before very long! Don't reply, sir! I know my guilt--but
you might have known I was jesting. You must have suspected, from my
frequent visits to Apple Orchard--hum--hum--well, well, sir; it's out
now, and I've made a clean breast of it, and you're not to speak of
it!