while strapping the skilful razor. "They've took a house in Grosvenor
Place, and are coming out strong, sir. Her Ladyship's going to give
three parties, besides a dinner a week, sir. Her fortune won't stand
it--can't stand it."

"Gad, she had a devilish good cook when I was at Fairoaks," the Major
said, with very little compassion for the widow Amory's fortune.

"Marobblan was his name, sir; Marobblan's gone away, sir," Morgan
said,--and the Major, this time, with hearty sympathy, said, "he was
devilish sorry to lose him."

"There's been a tremenjuous row about that Mosseer Marobblan,"
Morgan continued "At a ball at Baymouth, sir, bless his impadence, he
challenged Mr. Harthur to fight a jewel, sir, which Mr. Arthur was
very near knocking him down, and pitchin' him outawinder, and serve him
right; but Chevalier Strong, sir, came up and stopped the shindy--I beg
pardon, the holtercation, sir--them French cooks has as much pride and
hinsolence as if they was real gentlemen."

"I heard something of that quarrel," said the Major; "but Mirobolant was
not turned off for that?"

"No, sir--that affair, sir, which Mr. Harthur forgave it him and beayved
most handsome, was hushed hup: it was about Miss Hamory, sir, that he
ad is dismissial. Those French fellers, they fancy everybody is in love
with 'em; and he climbed up the large grape vine to her winder, sir,
and was a trying to get in, when he was caught, sir; and Mr. Strong came
out, and they got the garden-engine and played on him, and there was no
end of a row, sir."

"Confound his impudence! You don't mean to say Miss Amory encouraged
him," cried the Major, amazed at a peculiar expression in Mr. Morgan's
countenance.

Morgan resumed his imperturbable demeanour. "Know nothing about it, sir.
Servants don't know them kind of things the least. Most probbly there
was nothing in it--so many lies is told about families--Marobblan went
away, bag and baggage, saucepans, and pianna, and all--the feller ad a
pianna, and wrote potry in French, and he took a lodging at Clavering,
and he hankered about the primises, and it was said that Madam Fribsy,
the milliner, brought letters to Miss Hamory, though I don't believe a
word about it; nor that he tried to pison hisself with charcoal, which
it was all a humbug betwigst him and Madam Fribsy; and he was nearly
shot by the keeper in the park."

In the course of that very day, it chanced that the Major had stationed
himself in the