me on a throne. While exchanging his coat
for a most ragged dressing-gown, he threw himself on an old sofa with
such energy of ease that the venerable article of furniture creaked and
groaned in every joint.

"She's out," said he, with a toss of his thumb to a half-open door;
"gone to take a stroll in the Tuileries for half an hour, so that we
shall have a little chat before she comes. And now, what will ye take? A
little sherry and water? a glass of maraschino, eh? or what say you to a
nip of real Nantz?"

"Nothing, my dear friend; you forget the hour, not to speak of my French
education."

"Oh, very true," said he. "When I was in the Forty-fifth--" When he had
uttered these words, he stopped suddenly, hesitated, and stammered,
and at last, fairly overcome with confusion, he unfolded a huge
pocket-handkerchief, and blew his nose with the sound of a cavalry
trumpet, while he resumed: "We had a habit in the old Forty-fifth--a
deuced bad one, I confess--of a mess breakfast, that began after parade
and always ran into luncheon--But hush! here she comes," cried he,
in evident delight at the interruption so opportunely arriving. Then,
springing up, he threw open the door, and called out, "I say, Anna
Maria, you 'll not guess who's here?"

Either the ascent of the steep stair called for all the lady's spare
lungs, or the question had little interest for her, as she certainly
made no reply whatever, but continued to mount, step by step, with
that plodding, monosyllabic pace one falls into at the highest of six
flights.

"No," cried he aloud, "no, you're wrong; it is not Lauderdale." Then,
turning towards me, with a finger to his nose, he added, with pantomimic
action, "She thinks you are Yarmouth. Wrong again, by Jove! What do you
say to Tom Burke,--Burke of 'Ours.' as I used to call him long ago?"

By this time Miss Bubbleton had reached the door, and was holding the
handle to recover her breath after the fatigue of the ascent. Even in
that momentary glance, however, I recognized her. Nothing altered
by time, she was the same crabbed, crossgrained-looking personage I
remembered years before. She carried a little basket on her arm, of
which her brother hastened to relieve her, and showed no little concern
to remove out of sight. Being divested of this, she held out her hand,
and saluted me with more cordiality than I looked for.

Scarcely had our greetings been exchanged, when Bubbleton broke in, "I
've told him ever