and a knowing twinkle of the eyes illuminated his
highness's countenance. "I am very thirsty," he said, "and I will be
glad to drink your health, Fanny; and I hope Mr. Huxter will pardon me
for having been very rude to him the last time we met, and when I was
so ill and out of spirits, that indeed I scarcely knew what I said." And
herewith the lavender-coloured Dexter kid-glove was handed out, in token
of amity, to Huxter.

The dirty fist in the young surgeon's pocket was obliged to undoable
itself, and come out of its ambush disarmed. The poor fellow himself
felt, as he laid it in Pen's hand, how hot his own was, and how
black--it left black marks on Pen's gloves; he saw them,--he would
have liked to have clenched it again and dashed it into the other's
good-humoured face; and have seen, there upon that round, with Fanny,
with all England looking on, which was the best man--he Sam Huxter of
Bartholomew's, or that grinning dandy.

Pen with ineffable good-humour took a glass--he didn't mind what it
was--he was content to drink after the ladies; and he filled it with
frothing lukewarm beer, which he pronounced to be delicious, and which
he drank cordially to the health of the party.

As he was drinking and talking on in an engaging manner, a young lady
in a shot dove-coloured dress, with a white parasol lined with pink,
and the prettiest dove-coloured boots that ever stepped, passed by Pen,
leaning on the arm of a stalwart gentleman with a military moustache.

The young lady clenched her little fist, and gave a mischievous
side-look as she passed Pen. He of the mustachios burst out into a
jolly laugh. He had taken off his hat to the ladies of cab No. 2002. You
should have seen Fanny Bolton's eyes watching after the dove-coloured
young lady. Immediately Huxter perceived the direction which they took,
they ceased looking after the dove-coloured nymph, and they turned
and looked into Sam Huxter's orbs with the most artless good-humoured
expression.

"What a beautiful creature!" Fanny said. "What a lovely dress! Did you
remark, Mr. Sam, such little, little hands?"

"It was Capting Strong," said Mrs. Bolton: "and who was the young woman,
I wonder?"

"A neighbour of mine in the country--Miss 'Amory,'" Arthur said,--"Lady
Clavering's daughter. You've seen Sir Francis often in Shepherd's Inn,
Mrs. Bolton."

As he spoke, Fanny built up a perfect romance in three volumes
love--faithlessness--splendid marriage at St. Georg