that they must appear to involve a
very surprising proposition; 'envious of Carker, that I had not that
honour and that happiness myself.' Mr Dombey bowed again. Edith, saving
for a curl of her lip, was motionless.

'By the Lord, Sir,' cried the Major, bursting into speech at sight of
the waiter, who was come to announce breakfast, 'it's an extraordinary
thing to me that no one can have the honour and happiness of shooting
all such beggars through the head without being brought to book for
it. But here's an arm for Mrs Granger if she'll do J. B. the honour to
accept it; and the greatest service Joe can render you, Ma'am, just now,
is, to lead you into table!'

With this, the Major gave his arm to Edith; Mr Dombey led the way with
Mrs Skewton; Mrs Carker went last, smiling on the party.

'I am quite rejoiced, Mr Carker,' said the lady-mother, at breakfast,
after another approving survey of him through her glass, 'that you have
timed your visit so happily, as to go with us to-day. It is the most
enchanting expedition!'

'Any expedition would be enchanting in such society,' returned Carker;
'but I believe it is, in itself, full of interest.'

'Oh!' cried Mrs Skewton, with a faded little scream of rapture,
'the Castle is charming!--associations of the Middle Ages--and all
that--which is so truly exquisite. Don't you dote upon the Middle Ages,
Mr Carker?'

'Very much, indeed,' said Mr Carker.

'Such charming times!' cried Cleopatra. 'So full of faith! So vigorous
and forcible! So picturesque! So perfectly removed from commonplace!
Oh dear! If they would only leave us a little more of the poetry of
existence in these terrible days!'

Mrs Skewton was looking sharp after Mr Dombey all the time she said
this, who was looking at Edith: who was listening, but who never lifted
up her eyes.

'We are dreadfully real, Mr Carker,' said Mrs Skewton; 'are we not?'

Few people had less reason to complain of their reality than Cleopatra,
who had as much that was false about her as could well go to the
composition of anybody with a real individual existence. But Mr Carker
commiserated our reality nevertheless, and agreed that we were very
hardly used in that regard.

'Pictures at the Castle, quite divine!' said Cleopatra. 'I hope you dote
upon pictures?'

'I assure you, Mrs Skewton,' said Mr Dombey, with solemn encouragement
of his Manager, 'that Carker has a very good taste for pictures; quite
a natural power of appreciatin