return. I look upon 'Dear Hampstead,' as a little vulgar, you
know, and I always think that one ought to be particular in these
matters. But, as I was saying, when it comes to marriage, people
ought to be true to themselves. Now if I was a Marquis,--I don't know
what I mightn't do if I saw you, you know, Clara." "Clara" pouted,
but did not appear to have been offended either by the compliment or
by the familiarity. "But under any other circumstances less forcible
I would stick to my order."

"So would I," said Mrs. Duffer. "Marquises ought to marry marquises,
and dukes dukes."

"There it is!" said Clara, "and now we must drink its health, and I
hope we may be all married to them we like best before it comes round
again." This had reference to the little clock on the mantelpiece,
the hands of which had just crept round to twelve o'clock.

"I wish we might," said Crocker, "and have a baby in the cradle too."

"Go away," said Clara.

"That would be quick," said Mrs. Duffer. "What do you say, Mr.
Tribbledale?"

"Where my heart's fixed," said Tribbledale, who was just becoming
warm with the brandy-and-water, "there ain't no hope for this year,
nor yet for the one after." Whereupon Crocker remarked that "care
killed a cat."

"You just put on your coat and hat, and take me across to my
lodgings. See if I don't give you a chance," said Mrs. Duffer, who
was also becoming somewhat merry under the influences of the moment.
But she knew that it was her duty to do something for her young
hostess, and, true woman as she was, thought that this was the best
way of doing it. Tribbledale did as he was bid, though he was obliged
thus to leave his lady-love and her new admirer together. "Do you
really mean it?" said Clara, when she and Crocker were alone.

"Of course I do,--honest," said Crocker.

"Then you may," said Clara, turning her face to him.

CHAPTER VIII.

NEW YEAR'S DAY.

Crocker had by no means as yet got through his evening. Having dined
with his friends in the City, and "drank tea" with the lady of his
love, he was disposed to proceed, if not to pleasanter delights, at
any rate to those which might be more hilarious. Every Londoner,
from Holloway up to Gower Street, in which he lived, would be seeing
the New Year in,--and beyond Gower Street down in Holborn, and from
thence all across to the Strand, especially in the neighbourhood of
Covent Garden and the theatres, there would be a whole world of happy