out a shilling? How am I to go trapesing to
Kensington in my yellow satin sack before all the fine company? I've
nothing fit to put on; I never have:" and so the dispute went on--Mr.
Esmond interrupting the talk when it seemed to be growing too intimate by
blowing his nose as loudly as ever he could, at the sound of which trumpet
there came a lull. But Dick was charming, though his wife was odious, and
'twas to give Mr. Steele pleasure, that the ladies of Castlewood, who were
ladies of no small fashion, invited Mrs. Steele.

Besides the captain and his lady, there was a great and notable assemblage
of company: my lady of Chelsea having sent her lackeys and liveries to aid
the modest attendance at Kensington. There was Lieutenant-General Webb,
Harry's kind patron, of whom the dowager took possession, and who
resplended in velvet and gold lace; there was Harry's new acquaintance,
the Right Honourable Henry St. John, Esquire, the general's kinsman, who
was charmed with the Lady Castlewood, even more than with her daughter;
there was one of the greatest noblemen in the kingdom, the Scots Duke of
Hamilton, just created Duke of Brandon in England; and two other noble
lords of the Tory party, my Lord Ashburnham, and another I have forgot;
and for ladies, her grace the Duchess of Ormonde and her daughters, the
Lady Mary and the Lady Betty, the former one of Mistress Beatrix's
colleagues in waiting on the queen.

"What a party of Tories!" whispered Captain Steele to Esmond, as we were
assembled in the parlour before dinner. Indeed, all the company present,
save Steele, were of that faction.

Mr. St. John made his special compliments to Mrs. Steele, and so charmed
her that she declared she would have Steele a Tory too.

"Or will you have me a Whig?" says Mr. St. John. "I think, madam, you
could convert a man to anything."

"If Mr. St. John ever comes to Bloomsbury Square I will teach him what I
know," says Mrs. Steele, dropping her handsome eyes. "Do you know
Bloomsbury Square?"

"Do I know the Mall? Do I know the Opera? Do I know the reigning toast?
Why, Bloomsbury is the very height of the mode," says Mr. St. John. "'Tis
_rus in urbe_. You have gardens all the way to Hampstead, and palaces
round about you--Southampton House and Montague House."

"Where you wretches go and fight duels," cries Mrs. Steele.

"Of which the ladies are the cause!" says her entertainer. "Madam, is Dick
a good swordsman? How charming the _Tatle