as what we understand by an " individual,"
or a " party." A " young person" is the
word. I saw him frequently talking to a
young person of what the newspapers call
"prepossessing exterior," and whom I
subsequently discovered to be " lady's maid " at
a house not a hundred yards distant. Morning
after morning I watched the pair from my
window talking and walking together, and
marking in their manner towards each other
a certain respect and deference; a certain
air of distance, mixed with one of familiarity,
which obviously meant mystery; not much
mystery to me, for I carelessly set down the
affair as what they call " a case " and there
was an end of it.

No: not quite an end of it; for, one morning,
I was taking my usual walk before breakfast,
with a book in my hand; when, in a lane
a short distance from the house, I saw the
lady's maid—the obvious betrothed of the
gardener—walking with—our footman! Oh!
the caprice of woman! Why does not some
good-natured friend tell the unfortunate John
of Spades of the peril that awaits him?
Poor fellow! The rival lover seemed somewhat
confused, I thought, as he touched his
hat in passing; but did not look like a very
guilty man with any great weight upon his
conscience. He waited at breakfast afterwards
with his usual composure.

Meantime, I found myself no nearer to
a settlement of affairs with my guardian;
and began to think the " shallow-hearted
cousin " had been making fun of me. Time
went on, and it was plain that I must soon go
off. I resolved, however, to trust to the
chances of a few more days. I had been
much amused by the caprice of my friend,
the lady's maid; I was willing to see to what
it might lead. An incident which speedily
occurred made the case only still more
mysterious.

One morning I had been persuaded to
accompany Mrs. de Musherewin and her sister
to pay one of those dreary compliments
known as " morning calls," to the Twaddletons,
who lived a few miles off—ten, or twenty,
or thirty, perhaps: which is considered nothing
in the country. They were very nice people,
the Twaddletons; talked genteelly about high
life; and never told an anecdote of anybody
under an ambassador. I used to humour
them in this weakness; and tell them incidents
which had happened to my dear friend
Grinder (who was plucked, the other day, at
Cambridge, for the Voluntary Theological),
as the adventures of my friend—for the
nonce—the Duke of Mount-Mornington, or
that adventurous fellow, Lord John
Hightoptover. It is wonderful how stories
improve by this system. I remember, once—
when in one of my most audacious moments
I had given one of Grinder's exploits to the
Crown Prince of Wurteinberg —the Twaddletons
were absolutely entranced; and I know
that, from that moment, they pronounced me
one (for a mere commoner) of the most
amusing and well-bred persons of their
acquaintance.

I have said, we were going to pay a
morning visit to the Twaddletons. The
carriage had been ordered early, and while
waiting for it, and for the descent of the
ladies, I turned out to stroll for a few
minutes. Passing the coach-house, I saw the
Brougham standing at the door with the
horses in, and all ready; and, close by, the
coachman, engaged, with a reckless disregard
of his master's time, in conversation with my
old friend, the lady's maid; the undoubted
fiancée of the gardener, and the suspected
chère amie of the footman! The pair had
arrived at that most interesting period in
interviews of this description—the parting;
and they were prolonging the "sweet sorrow"
in the usual manner, under cover of the
carriage; not suspecting that a witness
was so near. The final farewell did at last
take place, and I will not—considering all
circumstances—say how affectionate it was.
The lady then tripped off. I made a point of
vanishing with considerable dexterity; and,
as the Brougham drove round to the
frantically impatient ladies, I thought I had never
seen a coachman look more innocent and
serene.

That day I was doomed once more to be
puzzled by this extraordinary establishment
of domestics. Returning from the Twaddletons',
I felt somewhat depressed, and was not
in one of my best humours. (I should have
mentioned, by the way, that the Twaddletons
are very nice people; but that they once had
the misfortune to live for six months in Paris.
They had quite time during that period to
adopt the accent of the natives; but this
they had certainly not done; and the principal
thing they seemed to have brought
away with them from France, was the very
reprehensible custom of not giving refreshments
of any description to morning callers—
in opposition to our dear old English country
custom, which relieves calling from so much
of its dulness). I felt somewhat depressed
in spirits, and was rallied on the subject
by the "shallow-hearted cousin," who told
me that I must brighten up in time for
dinner next day, when there was to be a
grand assemblage of all the "county families,"
and great guns of the neighbourhood,
who could be persuaded to come. This led
to the expression of some fears on the part
of Mrs. de Musherewin as to the efficiency
of " a young man who had been highly
recommended," and who had been accordingly
engaged as a supernumerary to assist in waiting
at table on the great occasion. In other
words, he had been engaged to make himself
"generally useful," and it was of course
anticipated that he would prove particularly
useless instead.

"You see," said Mrs. de Musherewin, turning
round with her usual grand manner to