dies, and to whom
Mr. Wagg made his obeisance, with florid bows, and extra courtesy,
accompanied with an occasional knowing leer at his companion. Mr.
Pynsent did not choose to acknowledge these signals, except by extreme
haughtiness towards Mr. Wagg, and particular deference to the ladies. If
there was one thing laughable in Mr. Wagg's eyes, it was poverty. He had
the soul of a butler who had been brought from his pantry to make fun in
the drawing-room. His jokes were plenty, and his good-nature thoroughly
genuine, but he did not seem to understand that a gentleman could wear
an old coat, or that a lady could be respectable unless she had her
carriage, or employed a French milliner.

"Charming place, ma'am," said he, bowing to the widow; "noble
prospect--delightful to us Cocknies, who seldom see anything but Pall
Mall." The widow said simply, she had never been in London but once in
her life--before her son was born.

"Fine village, ma'am, fine village," said Mr. Wagg, "and increasing
every day. It'll be quite a large town soon. It's not a bad place to
live in for those who can't get the country, and will repay a visit when
you honour it."

"My brother, Major Pendennis, has often mentioned your name to us," the
widow said, "and we have been very much amused by some of your droll
books, sir," Helen continued, who never could be brought to like Mr.
Wagg's books, and detested their tone most thoroughly.

"He is my very good friend," Mr. Wagg said, with a low bow, "and one of
the best known men about town, and where known, ma'am, appreciated--I
assure you appreciated. He is with our friend Steyne, at
Aix-la-Chapelle. Steyne has a touch of the gout and so, between
ourselves, has your brother. I am going to Stillbrook for the
pheasant-shooting, and afterwards to Bareacres, where Pendennis and I
shall probably meet;" and he poured out a flood of fashionable talk,
introducing the names of a score of peers, and rattling on with
breathless spirits, whilst the simple widow listened in silent wonder.
What a man, she thought; are all the men of fashion in London like this?
I am sure Pen will never like him.

Mr. Pynsent was in the meanwhile engaged with Miss Laura. He named some
of the houses in the neighbourhood whither he was going, and hoped very
much that he should see Miss Bell at some of them. He hoped that her
aunt would give her a season in London. He said, that in the next
parliament it was probable that he should ca