u.'

'Ay, ay?' said Mr Kenwigs.

'And I have been,' added Nicholas, 'already in town for some days,
without having had an opportunity of doing so.'

'It's no matter, sir,' said Mr Kenwigs. 'I dare say it's none the
worse for keeping cold. Message from the country!' said Mr Kenwigs,
ruminating; 'that's curious. I don't know anybody in the country.'

'Miss Petowker,' suggested Nicholas.

'Oh! from her, is it?' said Mr Kenwigs. 'Oh dear, yes. Ah! Mrs Kenwigs
will be glad to hear from her. Henrietta Petowker, eh? How odd things
come about, now! That you should have met her in the country! Well!'

Hearing this mention of their old friend's name, the four Miss Kenwigses
gathered round Nicholas, open eyed and mouthed, to hear more. Mr Kenwigs
looked a little curious too, but quite comfortable and unsuspecting.

'The message relates to family matters,' said Nicholas, hesitating.

'Oh, never mind,' said Kenwigs, glancing at Mr Lumbey, who, having
rashly taken charge of little Lillyvick, found nobody disposed to
relieve him of his precious burden. 'All friends here.'

Nicholas hemmed once or twice, and seemed to have some difficulty in
proceeding.

'At Portsmouth, Henrietta Petowker is,' observed Mr Kenwigs.

'Yes,' said Nicholas, 'Mr Lillyvick is there.'

Mr Kenwigs turned pale, but he recovered, and said, THAT was an odd
coincidence also.

'The message is from him,' said Nicholas.

Mr Kenwigs appeared to revive. He knew that his niece was in a delicate
state, and had, no doubt, sent word that they were to forward full
particulars. Yes. That was very kind of him; so like him too!

'He desired me to give his kindest love,' said Nicholas.

'Very much obliged to him, I'm sure. Your great-uncle, Lillyvick, my
dears!' interposed Mr Kenwigs, condescendingly explaining it to the
children.

'His kindest love,' resumed Nicholas; 'and to say that he had no time to
write, but that he was married to Miss Petowker.'

Mr Kenwigs started from his seat with a petrified stare, caught his
second daughter by her flaxen tail, and covered his face with his
pocket-handkerchief. Morleena fell, all stiff and rigid, into the baby's
chair, as she had seen her mother fall when she fainted away, and the
two remaining little Kenwigses shrieked in affright.

'My children, my defrauded, swindled infants!' cried Mr Kenwigs, pulling
so hard, in his vehemence, at the flaxen tail of his second daughter,
that he lifted her up on tiptoe, and