them sleep together: so that affair is settled."

"Are they man and wife, sir?" said the butler.

"The devil take them both! how should I know? Let me have my breakfast,
and we'll talk over the matter by-and-by."

Mr Witherington applied to his eggs, and muffin, eating his breakfast
as fast as he could, without knowing why; but the reason was that he was
puzzled and perplexed with the anticipated arrival, and longed to think
quietly over the dilemma, for it was a dilemma to an old bachelor. As
soon as he had swallowed his second cup of tea he put himself into his
easy-chair, in an easy attitude, and was very soon soliloquising as
follows:--

"By the blood of the Witheringtons! what am I, an old bachelor, to do
with a baby, and a wet-nurse as black as the ace of spades, and another
black fellow in the bargain. Send him back again? yes, that's best: but
the child--woke every morning at five o'clock with its squalling--
obliged to kiss it three times a-day--pleasant!--and then that nigger of
a nurse--thick lips--kissing child all day, and then holding it out to
me--ignorant as a cow--if child has the stomach-ache she'll cram a
pepper-pod down its throat--West India fashion--children never without
the stomach-ache!--my poor, poor cousin!--what has become of her and the
other child, too?--wish they may pick her up, poor dear! and then she
will come and take care of her own children--don't know what to do--
great mind to send for sister Moggy--but she's so fussy--won't be in a
hurry. Think again."

Here Mr Witherington was interrupted by two taps at the door.

"Come in," said he; and the cook, with her face as red as if she had
been dressing a dinner for eighteen, made her appearance without the
usual clean apron.

"If you please, sir," said she, curtseying, "I will thank you to suit
yourself with another cook."

"Oh, very well," replied Mr Witherington, angry at the interruption.

"And if you please, sir, I should like to go this very day--indeed, sir,
I shall not stay."

"Go to the devil! if you please," replied Mr Witherington, angrily;
"but first go out and shut the door after you."

The cook retired, and Mr Witherington was again alone.

"Confound the old woman--what a huff she is in! won't cook for black
people, I suppose--yes, that's it."

Here Mr Witherington was again interrupted by a second double tap at
the door.

"Oh! thought better of it, I suppose. Come in."

It was not the cook, but Mar