a man,' observed Miss Glitters, eyeing him archly, as he
sat stuffing his mouth with currant-loaf plentifully besmeared with
raspberry-jam. 'He'll be wanting a wife soon,' added she, smiling across
the table at Captain Seedeybuck.

'I question but he's got one,' observed the captain.

'No, ar haven't,' replied Cheek, pleased at the imputation.

'Then there's a chance for you. Miss G.,' retorted the captain. 'Mrs.
George Cheek would look well on a glazed card with gilt edges.'

'What a cub!' exclaimed Miss Howard, in disgust.

'You're another,' replied Master Cheek, amidst a roar of laughter from the
party.

'Well, but you ask your master if you mayn't have a wife next half, and
we'll see if we can't arrange matters,' observed Miss Glitters.

'Noo, ar sharn't,' replied George, stuffing his mouth full of preserved
apricot.

'Why not?' asked Miss Howard, 'Because--because--ar'll have somethin'
younger,' replied George.

'Bravo, young Chesterfield!' exclaimed Miss Howard; adding, 'what it is to
be thick with Lord John Manners!'

'Ar'm not,' growled the boy, amidst the mirth of the company.

'Well, but what must we do with these little (hiccup)?'
asked Sir Harry, at last rising from the breakfast-table, and looking
listlessly round the company for an answer.

[Illustration]

'Oh! liquor them well, and send them home to their mammas,' suggested
Captain Bouncey, who was all for the drink.

'But they won't take their (hiccup),' replied Sir Harry, holding up a
Curacao bottle to show how little had disappeared.

'Try them with cherry brandy,' suggested Captain Seedeybuck; adding, 'it's
sweeter. Now, young man,' continued he, addressing George Cheek, as he
poured him out a wineglassful, 'this is the real Daffy's elixir that you
read of in the papers. It's the finest compound that ever was known. It
will make your hair curl, your whiskers grow, and you a man before your
mother.'

'N-o-a, n-o-ar, don't want any more,' growled the young gentleman, turning
away in disgust. 'Ar won't drink any more.'

'Well, but be sociable,' observed Miss Howard, helping herself to a glass.

'N-o-a, no, ar don't want to be sociable,' growled he, diving into his
trouser-pockets, and wriggling about on his chair.

'Well, then, what _will_ you do?' asked Miss Howard.

'Hunt,' replied the youth.

'Hunt!' exclaimed Bob Spangles; 'why, the ground's as hard as bricks.'

'N-o-a, it's not,' replied the youth.

'What a whelp!' excl