you know where he's gone to? Why, to Richmond-
gardens, to be sure, about Colonel Chutney's
orders."

''' And a pretty hash he has made of them!"
the clerk added. " What with false measures,
and contradictory orders, the fitting up of
Colonel Chutney's house has been more bother
than profit."

"Ah!" remarked the shopman, lowering his
voice, " that don't matter to Deal. He'd go
there every day if he could. Why, when the
colonel's wife knocked down the 'leven-guinea
vauze here, didn't he pick up the pieces and
say it warn't of no consequence? O, he's deadly
sweet upon her, he is!" No form of impudence
is so thoroughly intense as the assumptions of
a certain class of young shopkeepers who see
enough of their aristocratic customers to imitate
their dress, manners, and external vices—-
except the insolence of their shopmen, who imitate
them. The clerk's reflection on his master on
the matter took this form: " Well, them
'spectable, smooth, elegant, soft-spoken sort, never
has no kind of morals to speak of."

At this moment enter Mr. Adolphus Deal in
an exquisitely fresh summer morning costume
of light grey, with turned-down collar, a moss
rose in his button-hole, a bunch of charms at
his watch-chain, and a flaring red and mauve
cravat drawn through a massive ring, luxuriant,
whiskers and moustache of auburn tinge, and
unexceptionably small Balmoral boots.

Deal, on removing his hat, passed one hand
meditatively through his hair.

"Briggs," he said, " where are those
fragments? I mean the pieces of the jar Mrs.
Chutney broke the other day?"

"Oh! I sent them to Pasticci, the china-
mender, sir, and he says he will make it a real
antique now," answered the shopman.

"Ah!" returned Mr. Deal, pensively. " Some
one must go to Richmond-gardens about that
ottoman. Perhaps, though———"

He was interrupted by an errand-boy, who
with much respect handed him a delicately
addressed note bearing a crest and monogram. Mr.
Deal gazed at it with affected indifference, and
finished his sentence before opening it—- " Per-
haps, though, I had better go myself, Briggs."

His patience could carry him no further, and
hastily retiring to a dingy sanctum reserved for
the head of the firm, he tore open the
envelope, and scarcely could he believe his
delighted eyes as they showed him what follows:

"My dear Sir. Knowing your time is much
occupied, I venture to ask the pleasure of your
company to a quiet dinner here on Thursday next, with
some hesitation. If, however, that day is inconvenient,
pray name one most suitable to yourself.
Excuse my fixing the early hour of six; but you
know Colonel Chutney's peculiar habits, and I
must study him.
"Yours truly,
"LOUISA CHUTNEY.
"23, Richmond-gardens, Monday."

The effect of this simple note upon the
susceptible Adolphus was electric. There is no
knowing what vagaries his ecstasy may not have
prompted him to commit in the presence of his
entire establishment, had not a summons
suddenly arrived from the largest show-room. A
lady had asked to see him, and him alone,
declining to transact any business save with the
principal. Mr. Deal had to descend from the
supreme altitude to which Mrs. Chutney's letter
had raised him. In the centre of the apartment
he beheld a tall thin elderly lady, destitute of
crinoline, attired in a skimpy black silk dress, a
bonnet more suited to a museum of defunct
fashions than modern wear, a small while shawl,
stout walking-shoes tied on the instep, white
stockings, and black gloves with long empty
finger-ends.

"Hum—- ha!" said Miss Bousfield, poking a
complicated arm-chair with the large and baggy
umbrella, which, together with a steel-rimmed,
steel-chained capacious bag, she invariably
carried. " What's that?"

"This is a very curious mechanical contrivance,"
replied Mr. Deal, blandly [the enrapturing
thought crossed him, "The angel's aunt!"],
but with that assumption of scientific knowledge
which high-art salesmen assume. " Only out
yesterday, and not yet named. We intend to
denominate the chair ' The Loungiensis
Multifarium.' You touch this spring, it lowers the
back to recline the head. You touch that, and
(click) out comes a footstool. Press the other,
and an elbow spontaneously projects itself.
Here you observe is a——-"

"That will do," interrupted Miss Bousfield.
"I am neither a cripple nor a lunatic." Mr.
Deal bowed. "I want something"—- she paused
—- " something as a present for my niece, Mrs.
Chutney."

Every fibre in Deal's frame quivered at the
mention of that name. He said, fervently, that
the entire resources of his establishment should
be placed at Miss Bousfield's command for so
delightful an object.

"Of course they will," said Miss Bousfield,
tartly, " if I am ready to pay for them. But I
don't want any costly rubbish. Show me
something sensible for about six pound ten." And
she made a short mental calculation of the
probable cost of a circular dumb waiter lately
presented to her by Colonel Chutney, beyond the
value of which she was determined not to
advance. Miss Bousfield considered presents as
debts, and always paid them at the rate of
twenty shillings in the pound.

"Something sensible for six, ten," repeated
Mr. Adolphus Deal, thoughtfully.

Here Mr. Deal despatched his men for several
inlaid cabinets, buhl work-tables, bronzes, and
ormolu ornaments. Miss Bousfield touched
each of them dangerously with her umbrella,
and Deal did not even wince.

"Pooh! Mere finery! Have you nothing
of a teapoy, or a writing thing?" Several such
articles were produced. " What's this?" asked
Miss Barbara,, examining a teapoy.

"The new garde thé—- registered," replied an
attendant.

"The price!" demanded Miss Bousfield,
fiercely.