nd her eyes a
shade darker than her sister's; while there was a sort of subdued air about
her--the result, perhaps, of enlarged intercourse with the world--or maybe
of disappointments. Emily's eyes sparkled and glittered, without knowing
perhaps why.

Dinner was presently announced. It was of the imposing order that people
give their friends on a first visit, as though their appetites were larger
on that day than on any other. They dined off plate; the sideboards
glittered with the Jawleyford arms on cups, tankards, and salvers;
'Brecknel and Turner's' flamed and swealed in profusion on the table; while
every now and then an expiring lamp on the sideboards or brackets
proclaimed the unwonted splendour of the scene, and added a flavour to the
repast not contemplated by the cook. The room, which was large and lofty,
being but rarely used, had a cold, uncomfortable feel; and, if it hadn't
been for the looks of the thing, Jawleyford would, perhaps, as soon that
they had dined in the little breakfast parlour. Still there was everything
very smart; Spigot in full fig, with a shirt frill nearly tickling his
nose, an acre of white waistcoat, and glorious calves swelling within his
gauze-silk stockings. The improvised footman went creaking about, as such
gentlemen generally do.

The style was perhaps better than the repast: still they had turtle-soup
(Shell and Tortoise, to be sure, but still turtle-soup); while the wines
were supplied by the well-known firm of 'Wintle & Co.' Jawleyford sank
where he got it, and pretended that it had been 'ages' in his cellar: 'he
really had such a stock that he thought he should never get through it'--to
wit, two dozen old port at 36_s._ a dozen, and one dozen at 48_s._; two
dozen pale sherry at 36_s._, and one dozen brown ditto at 48_s._; three
bottles of Bucellas, of the 'finest quality imported,' at 38_s._ a dozen;
Lisbon 'rich and dry,' at 32_s._; and some marvellous creaming champagne at
48_s._, in which they were indulging when he made the declaration: 'don't
wait of me, my dear Mr. Sponge!' exclaimed Jawleyford, holding up a long
needle-case of a glass with the Jawleyford crests emblazoned about; 'don't
wait of me, pray,' repeated he, as Spigot finished dribbling the froth into
Sponge's glass; and Jawleyford, with a flourishing bow and waive of his
empty needle-case, drank Mr. Sponge's very good health, adding, 'I'm
_extremely_ happy to see you at Jawleyford Court.'

It was then Jawley