oncluding
the bargain. Hereby they made for themselves a shining little reputation
apart. People said, on seeing a vacant palatial residence, 'The very
thing for the Lammles!' and wrote to the Lammles about it, and the
Lammles always went to look at it, but unfortunately it never exactly
answered. In short, they suffered so many disappointments, that they
began to think it would be necessary to build a palatial residence.
And hereby they made another shining reputation; many persons of their
acquaintance becoming by anticipation dissatisfied with their own
houses, and envious of the non-existent Lammle structure.

The handsome fittings and furnishings of the house in Sackville Street
were piled thick and high over the skeleton up-stairs, and if it ever
whispered from under its load of upholstery, 'Here I am in the closet!'
it was to very few ears, and certainly never to Miss Podsnap's. What
Miss Podsnap was particularly charmed with, next to the graces of
her friend, was the happiness of her friend's married life. This was
frequently their theme of conversation.

'I am sure,' said Miss Podsnap, 'Mr Lammle is like a lover. At least
I--I should think he was.'

'Georgiana, darling!' said Mrs Lammle, holding up a forefinger, 'Take
care!'

'Oh my goodness me!' exclaimed Miss Podsnap, reddening. 'What have I
said now?'

'Alfred, you know,' hinted Mrs Lammle, playfully shaking her head. 'You
were never to say Mr Lammle any more, Georgiana.'

'Oh! Alfred, then. I am glad it's no worse. I was afraid I had said
something shocking. I am always saying something wrong to ma.'

'To me, Georgiana dearest?'

'No, not to you; you are not ma. I wish you were.'

Mrs Lammle bestowed a sweet and loving smile upon her friend, which Miss
Podsnap returned as she best could. They sat at lunch in Mrs Lammle's
own boudoir.

'And so, dearest Georgiana, Alfred is like your notion of a lover?'

'I don't say that, Sophronia,' Georgiana replied, beginning to conceal
her elbows. 'I haven't any notion of a lover. The dreadful wretches that
ma brings up at places to torment me, are not lovers. I only mean that
Mr--'

'Again, dearest Georgiana?'

'That Alfred--'

'Sounds much better, darling.'

'--Loves you so. He always treats you with such delicate gallantry and
attention. Now, don't he?'

'Truly, my dear,' said Mrs Lammle, with a rather singular expression
crossing her face. 'I believe that he loves me, fully as much as I love
hi