gtons are first cousins."

"Oh, to be sure!" broke in Purvis. "Jane Harrington was father; no, no,
not father she was mo-mo-mother of Tom Badely; no! that is n't it, she
was his aunt, or his brother-in-law, I forget which."

"Pray be good enough, sir, not to involve a respectable family in
a breach of common law," said Haggerstone, tartly, "and leave the
explanation to me."

"How I do dislike dat English habit of countin' cousins," said the
Pole; "you never see tree, four English togeder without a leetle tree
of genealogie in de middle, and dey do sit all round, fighting for de
fruit."

"Financial reasons, then, might dictate retirement," said Mrs. Ricketts,
coming back to the original theme.

A very significant nod from Haggerstone inferred that he concurred in
the remark.

"Four contested elections for a county, ma'am, a spendthrift wife, and a
gambling son, rarely increase a man's income," said he, sententiously.

"Do he play? What for play is he fond of?" asked the Pole, eagerly.

"Play, sir? There is nothing an Englishman will not play at, from the
turf, to tossing for sovereigns."

"So Hamlet say, in Shakspeare, 'de play is de ting,'" cried the Count,
with the air of a man who made a happy quotation.

"They are going to have plays," broke in Purvis; "Jekyl let it out
to-night. They 're going to get up a Vauvau-vau-vau--"

"A tete de veau, probably, sir," said Haggerstone; "In which case,"
continued he, in a whisper, "you would be invaluable."

"No, it is n't that," broke in Purvis; "they are to have what they call
Proverbs."

"I trust they have engaged your services as Solomon, sir," said
Haggerstone, with that look of satisfaction which always followed an
impudent speech.

"I heard the subject of one of them," resumed the other, who was far too
occupied with his theme to bestow a thought upon a sarcasm. "There's a
lady in love with with with her Mam-mam-mam--"

"Her mamma," suggested the Pole.

"No, it is n't her mamma; it's her Mam-ame-ameluke her Mameluke slave;
and he, who is a native prince, with a great many wives of his own--"

"Oh, for shame, Scroope, you forget Martha is here," said Mrs. Ricketts,
who was always ready to suppress the bore by a call to order on the
score of morals.

"It isn't wrong, I assure you; just hear me out; let me only explain--"

"There, pray don't insist, I beg you," said Mrs. Ricketts, with a regal
wave of her hand.

"Why, it's Miss Dalton is to play it,