l she is a nice old
lady."

"Quite so,--quite so; very elegant in manner, and in appearance
decidedly high-bred."

"Hybrid!" exclaims Sir Penthony, purposely misunderstanding the word.
"Oh, by Jove, I didn't think you so severe. You allude, of course, to
her ladyship's mother, who, if report speaks truly, was a good cook
spoiled by matrimony. 'Hybrid!' Give you my word, Buscarlet, I didn't
believe you capable of anything half so clever. I must remember to tell
it at dinner to the others. It is just the sort of thing to delight Mr.
Amherst."

Now, this lawyer has a passion for the aristocracy. To be noticed by a
lord,--to press "her ladyship's" hand,--to hold sweet converse with the
smallest scion of a noble house,--is as honey to his lips; therefore to
be thought guilty of an impertinence to one of this sacred community,
to have uttered a word that, if repeated, would effectually close to
him the doors of Lady Elizabeth's house, fills him with horror.

"My dear Sir Penthony, pardon me," he says, hastily, divided between
the fear of offending the baronet and a desire to set himself straight
in his own eyes, "you quite mistake me. 'Hybrid!'--such a word, such a
thought, never occurred to me in connection with Lady Elizabeth Eyre,
whom I hold in much reverence. Highly bred I meant. I assure you you
altogether misunderstand. I--I never made a joke in my life."

"Then let me congratulate you on your maiden effort; you have every
reason to be proud of it," laughs Sir Penthony, who is highly delighted
at the success of his own manoeuvre. "Don't be modest. You have made a
decided hit: it is as good a thing as ever I heard. But how about Lady
Elizabeth, eh? should _she_ hear it? Really, you will have to suppress
your wit, or it will lead you into trouble."

"But--but--if you will only allow me to explain--I protest I----"

"Ah! here come Lady Stafford and Miss Massereene. Positively you must
allow me to tell them----" And, refusing to listen to Mr. Buscarlet's
vehement protestations, he relates to the new-comers his version of the
lawyer's harmless remark, accompanying the story with an expressive
glance--that closely resembles a wink--at Lady Stafford. "I must go,"
he says, when he has finished, moving toward the door, "though I hardly
think I do wisely, leaving, you alone with so dangerous a companion."

"I assure you, my dear Lady Stafford," declares Mr. Buscarlet, with
tears in his eyes and dew on his brow, "it is a