cent-bottles, scissor-cases, gilt miniature
easels displaying portraits, and countless gimcracks of travel, the
rapid Kuhn has covered the tables in the twinkling of an eye.

The person supposed to be the landlady enters the room at this juncture,
and the lady rises to receive her. The little wag on the sofa puts his
arm round his sister's neck, and whispers, "I say, Eth, isn't she a
pretty girl? I shall write to Doctor Goodenough and tell him how much
she's grown." Convulsions follow this sally, to the surprise of Hannah,
who says, "Pooty little dear!--what time will he have his dinner, mum?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Honeyman, at two o'clock," says the lady with a bow
of her head. "There is a clergyman of your name in London; is he a
relation?" The lady in her turn is astonished, for the tall person
breaks out into a grin, and says, "Law, mum, you're speakin' of Master
Charles. He's in London."

"Indeed!--of Master Charles?"

"And you take me for missis, mum. I beg your pardon, mum," cries Hannah.
The invalid hits his sister in the side with a weak little fist. If
laughter can cure, salva est res. Doctor Goodenough's patient is
safe. "Master Charles is missis's brother, mum. I've got no brother,
mum--never had no brother. Only one son, who's in the police, mum, thank
you. And law bless me, I was going to forget! If you please, mum, missis
says, if you are quite rested, she will pay her duty to you, mum."

"Oh, indeed," says the lady, rather stiffly; and, taking this for an
acceptance of her mistress's visit, Hannah retires.

"This Miss Honeyman seems to be a great personage," says the lady. "If
people let lodgings, why do they give themselves such airs?"

"We never saw Monsieur de Boigne at Boulogne, mamma," interposes the
girl.

"Monsieur de Boigne, my dear Ethel! Monsieur de Boigne is very well.
But--" here the door opens, and in a large cap bristling with ribbons,
with her best chestnut front, and her best black silk gown, on which
her gold watch shines very splendidly, little Miss Honeyman makes her
appearance, and a dignified curtsey to her lodger.

That lady vouchsafes a very slight inclination of the head indeed, which
she repeats when Miss Honeyman says, "I am glad to hear your ladyship is
pleased with the apartments."

"Yes, they will do very well, thank you," answers the latter person,
gravely.

"And they have such a beautiful view of the sea!" cries Ethel.

"As if all the houses hadn't a view of the s