this discussion with an appropriate sentiment,"
added the venerable sage, raising his tumbler,
"May we never so far worship interest as to
lose all regard for principle; and may principle
always be found conducive to interest."

"Fine old fellow that!" whispered the Unctuous,
to a young gentleman beside him, whom
we shall call the Novice. "You would not
think he was getting on for eighty."

"Had a deal of trouble, too, with his family,"
whispered the Significant, as we shall term him,
in the Novice's other ear.

"What matters a family to a man with a
headpiece like that?" said the Unctuous, with
a side-look of admiration at the Chairman, who
had relapsed into a state of contemplative
abstraction.

"I suppose HE will be here soon," observed
the Positive, glancing at the face of the old-fashioned
clock.

"Not for the next quarter of an hour,"
growled the Negative, whose temper had been
somewhat ruffled by the check he had received
in the midst of his victory.

"He came last night, when the hand of that
clock was where it is now."

"I don't go by that clock; I go by the Horse
Guards. I set my watch by the Horse Guards
every Saturday," said the Negative, proudly
drawing a pinchbeck timepiece from his waistcoat
pocket.

"When I was a lad," remarked a Senile
Voice in a corner of the room, "there were
clocks with cuckoos in them——"

"And so there are now, for those who are
fools enough to buy them," rudely interrupted
the Negative.

"Rather sharp to-night!" ejaculated the
sandy-whiskered neighbour of the Senile
Voice.

"I did not address my observation to you,"
retorted the Negative, contemptuously.

An awkward pause ensued, which was at
last interrupted by the meek Chairman, who
observed, "I think the party must soon be here."

"Yes, if the Horse Guards allow him," said
the Positive, glancing sarcastically at the Negative,
who was now absorbed in the occupation
of tickling a black cat.

"May I venture to ask who is expected
with so much curiosity?" asked the Novice,
timidly.

"Yes, certainly; he's nothing very particular,"
answered the Significant. "He's a gent
that uses this parlour every evening of his life,
and lives in a house that seems a deal too big
for him. For though there's only ten rooms in
the house, and that ain't much for a family man,
it's a goodish size for one that lives only by
himself like, with an old woman for a servant."

"There are twelve rooms in that house, if
there's one," exclaimed the Positive. "I went
over it six years ago."

"Did you?" observed the Negative. "And
my brother papered it from top to bottom
twenty years ago, so I know there's only ten,
and I ought to know best."

"And the windows of the house are never
cleaned," continued the Significant, "and the
door-step never looks properly washed, and one-half
of the rooms never seem occupied, and the
gent don't look as if he had anything to do,
and the old woman I'm sure does nothing at
all, but saunters about and gossips from the
grocer's to the publican's, muddling away her
money, or most likely her master's money, in
ounces of tea and half-pints of beer. But
that gent yonder will tell you the most curious
part of the business. Tell about your shop,
gov'nor."

The Negative lifted up his head with something
like a gesture of impatience as the Sandy
man commenced his discourse. However, with
a resigned look, he soon returned to the sport
with the cat.

"You see, sir, I'm in the toy line," said the
Sandy. "You know, of course, what toys are—
all youngsters know about toys—and you, I'll
make bold to say, have been a youngster in your
time, and if you were a youngster now, I've no
doubt you would lay out your pocket-money at
my shop. Ay, I make bold to say it, you
would not get a better article for the same price
at any warehouse in London."

"No, that you wouldn't," squeaked the Senile
Voice, with considerable enthusiasm, while the
Negative, looking askance from his cat, gave a
sceptical cough.

"Well, that boys should buy toys is natural
enough—boy and toy is reason as well as
rhyme," continued the Sandy speaker, looking
round for a laugh, which, however, did not
come. "But even little boys don't buy dolls,
seeing that dolls are made expressly for little
girls, and when a grown-up man like you buys
a lot of dolls, it puts one out altogether."

"I suppose a man has a right to do what he
likes with his own money," grunted the Negative,
in a sort of semi-soliloquy.

"Of course, he has—who says he hasn't?"
proceeded the Sandy. "I'm much obliged to
any one for his custom, whether he's a man, or
whether he's a woman, or whether he's a
tomcat. But still, when a gent comes week after
week, as one may say, and buys a big doll, without
having any young uns at home, it puts one
out, I repeat, specially when people are not quite
so sharp as other people, or, rather, as other
people pretend to be."

Everybody knew that this last remark was
pointed sarcastically at the Negative, but that
gentleman ignored it utterly.

"And what is queerer still," continued the
Sandy historian, "there is my brother-in-law, a
master carpenter, who tells me that every week
this same gent orders a little coffin, some two
feet long, to be made, and when it is finished
pays for it, and carries it away under his arm,
just as he carries away the dolls."

"But how do you know where he lives, if
he takes home the articles himself?" asked the
Novice.

"That question is very well put, sir, and does
credit to your discernment," observed the