he
value. So open and transparent a swindle I have seldom seen, even in an
auction-room. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"

His mirth was interrupted by Rosa going to her husband, hiding her head
on his shoulder, and meekly crying.

Christopher comforted her like a man. "Don't you cry, darling," said he;
"how should a pure creature like you know the badness of the world all
in a moment? If it is my wife you are laughing at, Uncle Philip, let me
tell you this is the wrong place. I'd rather a thousand times have her
as she is, than armed with the cunning and suspicions of a hardened old
worldling like you."

"With all my heart," said Uncle Philip, who, to do him justice, could
take blows as well as give them; "but why employ a broker? Why pay a
scoundrel five per cent to make you pay a hundred per cent? Why pay a
noisy fool a farthing to open his mouth for you when you have taken the
trouble to be there yourself, and have got a mouth of your own to bid
discreetly with? Was ever such an absurdity?" He began to get angry.

"Do you want to quarrel with me, Uncle Philip?" said Christopher, firing
up; "because sneering at my Rosa is the way, and the only way, and the
sure way."

"Oh, no," said Rosa, interposing. "Uncle Philip was right. I am very
foolish and inexperienced, but I am not so vain as to turn from good
advice. I will never employ a broker again, sir."

Uncle Philip smiled and looked pleased.

Mrs. Cole caused a diversion by taking leave, and Rosa followed her
down-stairs. On her return she found Christopher telling his uncle all
about the Bijou, and how he had taken it for a hundred and thirty pounds
a year and a hundred pounds premium, and Uncle Philip staring fearfully.

At last he found his tongue. "The Bijou!" said he. "Why, that is a name
they gave to a little den in Dear Street, Mayfair. You haven't ever been
and taken THAT! Built over a mews."

Christopher groaned. "That is the place, I fear."

"Why the owner is a friend of mine; an old patient. Stables stunk him
out. Let it to a man; I forget his name. Stables stunk HIM out. He said,
'I shall go.' 'You can't,' said my friend; 'you have taken a lease.'
'Lease be d--d,' said the other; 'I never took YOUR house; here's quite
a large stench not specified in your description of the property--IT
CAN'T BE THE SAME PLACE;' flung the lease at his head, and cut like the
wind to foreign parts less odoriferous. I'd have got you the hole for
ninety; but you are like your