the faintest trace of a grin
lingering in his countenance. 'The beautiful sister is the countess; not
the duchess.'

'True,' said Pluck, 'the C. of B. The resemblance is wonderful!'

'Perfectly startling,' said Mr Pyke.

Here was a state of things! Mrs Wititterly was declared, upon the
testimony of two veracious and competent witnesses, to be the very
picture of a countess! This was one of the consequences of getting into
good society. Why, she might have moved among grovelling people for
twenty years, and never heard of it. How could she, indeed? what did
THEY know about countesses?

The two gentlemen having, by the greediness with which this little
bait was swallowed, tested the extent of Mrs Wititterly's appetite for
adulation, proceeded to administer that commodity in very large doses,
thus affording to Sir Mulberry Hawk an opportunity of pestering Miss
Nickleby with questions and remarks, to which she was absolutely obliged
to make some reply. Meanwhile, Lord Verisopht enjoyed unmolested the
full flavour of the gold knob at the top of his cane, as he would have
done to the end of the interview if Mr Wititterly had not come home, and
caused the conversation to turn to his favourite topic.

'My lord,' said Mr Wititterly, 'I am delighted--honoured--proud. Be
seated again, my lord, pray. I am proud, indeed--most proud.'

It was to the secret annoyance of his wife that Mr Wititterly said all
this, for, although she was bursting with pride and arrogance, she would
have had the illustrious guests believe that their visit was quite a
common occurrence, and that they had lords and baronets to see them
every day in the week. But Mr Wititterly's feelings were beyond the
power of suppression.

'It is an honour, indeed!' said Mr Wititterly. 'Julia, my soul, you will
suffer for this tomorrow.'

'Suffer!' cried Lord Verisopht.

'The reaction, my lord, the reaction,' said Mr Wititterly. 'This violent
strain upon the nervous system over, my lord, what ensues? A sinking, a
depression, a lowness, a lassitude, a debility. My lord, if Sir Tumley
Snuffim was to see that delicate creature at this moment, he would
not give a--a--THIS for her life.' In illustration of which remark, Mr
Wititterly took a pinch of snuff from his box, and jerked it lightly
into the air as an emblem of instability.

'Not THAT,' said Mr Wititterly, looking about him with a serious
countenance. 'Sir Tumley Snuffim would not give that for Mrs
Wititte