a couple of lobsters and something light and
palatable.'

'I--I--didn't ask them to tea, Quilp,' stammered his wife. It's quite
an accident.'

'So much the better, Mrs Quilp; these accidental parties are always the
pleasantest,' said the dwarf, rubbing his hands so hard that he seemed
to be engaged in manufacturing, of the dirt with which they were
encrusted, little charges for popguns. 'What! Not going, ladies, you
are not going, surely!'

His fair enemies tossed their heads slightly as they sought their
respective bonnets and shawls, but left all verbal contention to Mrs
Jiniwin, who finding herself in the position of champion, made a faint
struggle to sustain the character.

'And why not stop to supper, Quilp,' said the old lady, 'if my daughter
had a mind?'

'To be sure,' rejoined Daniel. 'Why not?'

'There's nothing dishonest or wrong in a supper, I hope?' said Mrs
Jiniwin.

'Surely not,' returned the dwarf. 'Why should there be? Nor anything
unwholesome, either, unless there's lobster-salad or prawns, which I'm
told are not good for digestion.'

'And you wouldn't like your wife to be attacked with that, or anything
else that would make her uneasy would you?' said Mrs Jiniwin.

'Not for a score of worlds,' replied the dwarf with a grin. 'Not even
to have a score of mothers-in-law at the same time--and what a blessing
that would be!'

'My daughter's your wife, Mr Quilp, certainly,' said the old lady with
a giggle, meant for satirical and to imply that he needed to be
reminded of the fact; 'your wedded wife.'

'So she is, certainly. So she is,' observed the dwarf.

'And she has has a right to do as she likes, I hope, Quilp,' said the
old lady trembling, partly with anger and partly with a secret fear of
her impish son-in-law.

'Hope she has!' he replied. 'Oh! Don't you know she has? Don't you know
she has, Mrs Jiniwin?

'I know she ought to have, Quilp, and would have, if she was of my way
of thinking.'

'Why an't you of your mother's way of thinking, my dear?' said the
dwarf, turing round and addressing his wife, 'why don't you always
imitate your mother, my dear? She's the ornament of her sex--your
father said so every day of his life. I am sure he did.'

'Her father was a blessed creetur, Quilp, and worthy twenty thousand of
some people,' said Mrs Jiniwin; 'twenty hundred million thousand.'

'I should like to have known him,' remarked the dwarf. 'I dare say he
was a blessed creature then;