ne shoulder higher than the other, must hang on to
some boor through life, and why should not Mr. Pendennis be her support?
In the very first winter after the accession to his mother's fortune,
Mrs. Hawxby in a country-house caused her Beatrice to learn billiards
from Mr. Pendennis and would be driven by nobody but him in the pony
carriage, because he was literary and her Beatrice was literary too,
and declared that the young man, under the instigation of his horrid old
uncle, had behaved most infamously in trifling with Beatrice's feelings.
The truth is the old gentleman, who knew Mrs. Hawxby's character, and
how desperately that lady would practise upon unwary young men, had come
to the country-house in question and carried Arthur out of the danger
of her immediate claws, though not out of the reach of her tongue. The
elder Pendennis would have had his nephew pass a part of the Christmas
at Clavering, whither the family had returned; but Arthur had not the
heart for that. Clavering was too near poor old Fairoaks; and that was
too full of sad recollections for the young man.

We have lost sight of the Claverings, too, until their reappearance
upon the Epsom race-ground, and must give a brief account of them in the
interval. During the past year, the world has not treated any member
of the Clavering family very kindly; Lady Clavering, one of the
best-natured women that ever enjoyed a good dinner, or made a slip in
grammar, has had her appetite and good-nature sadly tried by constant
family grievances, and disputes such as make the efforts of the best
French cook unpalatable, and the most delicately-stuffed sofa-cushion
hard to lie on. "I'd rather have a turnip, Strong, for dessert, than
that pineapple, and all them Muscatel grapes, from Clavering," says poor
Lady Clavering, looking at her dinner-table, and confiding her grief to
her faithful friend, "if I could but have a little quiet to eat it with.
Oh, how much happier I was when I was a widow and before all this money
fell in to me!"

The Clavering family had indeed made a false start in life, and had got
neither conduct, nor position, nor thanks for the hospitalities which
they administered, nor a return of kindness from the people whom they
entertained. The success of their first London season was doubtful; and
their failure afterwards notorious. "Human patience was not great
enough to put up with Sir Francis Clavering," people said. "He was too
hopelessly low, du