d gone quite
far enough, she took another theme.

"I am afraid Mr. Foker is a very sad young man," she said, turning round
to Pen.

"He does not look so," Pen answered with a sneer.

"I mean we have heard sad stories about him. Haven't we, mamma? What was
Mr. Poyntz saying here, the other day, about that party at Richmond? O
you naughty creature!" But here, seeing that Harry's countenance assumed
a great expression of alarm, while Pen's wore a look of amusement, she
turned to the latter and said, "I believe you are just as bad: I believe
you would have liked to have been there,--wouldn't you? I know you
would: yes--and so should I."

"Lor, Blanche!" mamma cried.

"Well, I would. I never saw an actress in my life. I would give anything
to know one; for I adore talent. And I adore Richmond, that I do; and I
adore Greenwich, and I say, I should like to go there."

"Why should not we three bachelors," the Major here broke out,
gallantly, and to his nephew's special surprise, "beg these ladies to
honour us with their company at Greenwich? Is Lady Clavering to go on
for ever being hospitable to us, and may we make no return? Speak for
yourselves, young men,--eh, begad! Here is my nephew, with his pockets
full of money--his pockets full, begad! and Mr. Henry Foker, who, as I
have heard say, is pretty well to do in the world,--how is your lovely
cousin, Lady Ann, Mr. Foker?--here are these two young ones,--and they
allow an old fellow like me to speak. Lady Clavering, will you do me the
favour to be my guest? and Miss Blanche shall be Arthur's, if she will
be so good."

"Oh, delightful!" cried Blanche.

"I like a bit of fun too," said Lady Clavering; and we will take some
day when Sir Francis----"

"When Sir Francis dines out,--yes, mamma," the daughter said, "it will
be charming."

And a charming day it was. The dinner was ordered at Greenwich,
and Foker, though he did not invite Miss Amory, had some delicious
opportunities of conversation with her during the repast, and afterwards
on the balcony of their room at the hotel, and again during the drive
home in her ladyship's barouche. Pen came down with his uncle, in Sir
Hugh Trumpington's brougham, which the Major borrowed for the occasion.
"I am an old soldier, begad," he said, "and I learned in early life to
make myself comfortable."

And, being an old soldier, he allowed the two young men to pay for the
dinner between them, and all the way home in the brougham