here to the best houses, the tip-tops, I tell you. We ride with Lord
John and the noble Whycount at the edd of Foring Affairs. We dine with
the Hearl of Burgrave, and are consulted by the Marquis of Steyne in
everythink. We ought to know a thing or two, Mr. Lightfoot. You're a
young man, I'm an old cove, as you say. We've both seen the world, and
we both know that it ain't money, nor bein' a Baronet, nor 'avin' a town
and country 'ouse, nor a paltry five or six thousand a year."

"It's ten, Mr. Morgan," cried Mr. Lightfoot, with great animation.

"It may have been, sir," Morgan said, with calm severity; "it may have
been, Mr. Lightfoot, but it ain't six now, nor five, sir. It's been
doosedly dipped and cut into, sir, by the confounded extravygance of
your master, with his helbow shakin', and his bill discountin', and his
cottage in the Regency Park, and his many wickednesses. He's a bad un,
Mr. Lightfoot,--a bad lot, sir, and that you know. And it ain't
money, sir--not such money as that, at any rate, come from a Calcuttar
attorney, and I dussay wrung out of the pore starving blacks--that
will give a pusson position in society, as you know very well. We've no
money, but we go everywhere; there's not a housekeeper's room, sir, in
this town of any consiquince, where James Morgan ain't welcome. And it
was me who got you into this Club, Lightfoot, as you very well know,
though I am an old cove, and they would have blackballed you without me
as sure as your name is Frederic."

"I know they would, Mr. Morgan," said the other, with much humility.

"Well, then, don't call me an old cove, sir. It ain't gentlemanlike,
Frederic Lightfoot, which I knew you when you was a cab-boy, and when
your father was in trouble, and got you the place you have now when the
Frenchman went away. And if you think, sir, that because you're making
up to Mrs. Bonner, who may have saved her two thousand pound--and I dare
say she has in five-and-twenty years as she have lived confidential maid
to Lady Clavering--yet, sir, you must remember who put you into that
service; and who knows what you were before, sir, and it don't become
you, Frederic Lightfoot, to call me an old cove."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Morgan--I can't do more than make an
apology--will you have a glass, sir, and let me drink your 'ealth?"

"You know I don't take sperrits. Lightfoot," replied Morgan, appeased.
"And so you and Mrs. Bonner is going to put up together, are you?"

"Sh