quare, the fraternal quarrel between the Newcomes must have
come to an end--for that time at least--and was followed by a rather
ostentatious reconciliation. And pretty little Rosey Mackenzie was the
innocent and unconscious cause of this amiable change in the minds of
the three brethren, as I gathered from a little conversation with Mrs.
Newcome, who did me the honour to invite me to her table. As she had not
vouchsafed this hospitality to me for a couple of years previously, and
perfectly stifled me with affability when we met,--as her invitation
came quite at the end of the season, when almost everybody was out
of town, and a dinner to a man is no compliment,--I was at first for
declining this invitation, and spoke of it with great scorn when Mr.
Newcome orally delivered it to me at Bays's Club.

"What," said I, turning round to an old man of the world, who happened
to be in the room at the time, "what do these people mean by asking a
fellow to dinner in August, and taking me up after dropping me for two
years?"

"My good fellow," says my friend--it was my kind old Uncle Major
Pendennis, indeed--"I have lived long enough about town never to ask
myself questions of that sort. In the world people drop you and take you
up every day. You know Lady Cheddar by sight? I have known her husband
for forty years: I have stayed with them in the country, for weeks at a
time. She knows me as well as she knows King Charles at Charing Cross,
and a doosid deal better, and yet for a whole season she will drop
me--pass me by, as if there was no such person in the world. Well, sir,
what do I do? I never see her. I give you my word I am never conscious
of her existence; and if I meet her at dinner, I'm no more aware of her
than the fellows in the play are of Banquo. What's the end of it? She
comes round--only last Toosday she came round--and said Lord Cheddar
wanted me to go down to Wiltshire. I asked after the family (you know
Henry Churningham is engaged to Miss Rennet?--a doosid good match for
the Cheddars). We shook hands and are as good friends as ever. I don't
suppose she'll cry when I die, you know," said the worthy old gentleman
with a grin. "Nor shall I go into very deep mourning if anything happens
to her. You were quite right to say to Newcome that you did not know
whether you were free or not, and would look at your engagements when
you got home, and give him an answer. A fellow of that rank has no right
to give himself airs