superintended their education. Did you find
them clever?"

"I have no doubt they are very clever —
and with such an instructress—"

"Oh! excuse me. Mamma is very angry
when I receive a gentleman's attentions
without informing her whether I think his
designs are honourable. May I say so of
yours?"

"Decidedly honourable, I assure you; but
here comes dinner."

"Then I must proceed to business at once.
Was Charles at the lecture?"

"Who?"

"Charles Hammersmith. He was a pupil of
Mr. Slockum, prodigiously clever, and had
got into the second volume of Goldsmith's
Greece when his education was finished."

"Is he a tall, handsome young man, auburn
hair, dark eyes, about five feet eleven, fine
teeth, a pleasant smile, and a shocking temper
when he's put out?"

"Ah! I see you know him. His smile is
indeed very pleasant, and, do you know," she
added in a mysterious whisper, "he once
pulled Mr. Slockum's nose— his own tutor!
Wasn't it dreadful? but I see you're impatient,
so I will proceed at once. Do you ever buy
baby caps? Mamma and I make them, and
dispose of them for charitable purposes. Do
take a dozen."

"What is the charitable purpose? I would
rather give a small donation at once. I am
a bachelor, and never bought a baby cap in
my life."

"These are prepared for the 'Decayed
Dorcas Association.'"

"I never heard of it; who is Dorcas?"

"I'm a Dorcas: so is mamma. We make
worsted jackets and warm petticoats; so
when we have given away all we have got,
and are, in fact, decayed, we think it right
there should be a fund for our maintenance.
The caps are only four shillings a-piece. Do
take a dozen; you may find them very useful
to give away, for of course you are often
asked to be godfather. Charles Hammersmith
buys two or. three every day. He
takes an immense interest in the Dorcases for
so young a man."

"Well," I said, "I know a little of Charles
Hammersmith, and as I always follow a good
example I will take a dozen caps."

"Oh, you're so good! There's one, the rest
shall be sent. They are four shillings a-piece;
two pound eight— thank you, thank you! Dear
me, this is three sovereigns; we never give
change on charitable occasions. Won't you
come in and see us at work to-morrow? The
Miss Boltons assist. Charles often comes."

"Oh. does he? Are the Miss Boltons
Dorcases?"

"No, but they help. They belong to the
Widow's Chicken Fund; and, bless me, what
a nice chicken that is! Two, I do declare. Oh!
if you knew how we require a chicken to
make up a good dinner for the widows, I'm
sure you wouldn't grudge one. It's such a
charity. Waiter, bring a plate— this is the
largest. You make the Widow's Chicken
Fund sing for joy! Good bye, we meet at
Mr. Mudd's, and you'll join us to-morrow at
twelve. Mamma will be so pleased; she will
see your designs are strictly honourable."

And so saying, before I could recover from
my surprise, she walked off with my three
sovereigns and a chicken. I recollected the
character given of her and her mamma by
the driver; they were skin-flints and spoon-
sweaters without a doubt. But what could
Charles Hammersmith want in this sequestered
spot? He was the only son of old
Harry Hammersmith, the original head of
our house, who had retired to a good estate in
Sussex, and had died of being a justice of the
peace. I had known the boy from his cradle;
and whenever he wanted a tip while he was
at Harrow, he always said I was his
godfather. I gave him a horse at Oxford, for he
said he was known in College as the son of
"Hammersmith and Co.," and if he made a
shabby appearance it would be a disgrace to
the Firm. I had never heard of his being
a pupil of Slockum, and had dreadful
suspicions about his charitable contribution to
the baby cap establishment at the great
Arabella's.

In the midst of these meditations, I
discovered the absence of the ham on which I
had relied as the principal security for my
dinner. The waiter was profoundly ignorant
of what had become of the ham, as of
everything else in the world; and the landlord, at
my request, made his appearance. He was
not alone, however, but brought with him a
man dressed exactly in the same style with
himself, only the collar was still more rigidly
straight, and the surtout still more
surprisingly like a funeral cloak.

"What has become of the ham I ordered?"
I began without attending to the bows of the
visitors. "I saw it in the larder, and
particularly desired it for dinner."

"It is all cut into sandwiches, sir, for Mr.
Mudd's entertainment; we generally furnish
supper on occasions of the sort. Mr. Platterwipe
knows our customs. This is Mr.
Platterwipe."

I looked at the gentleman thus introduced,
and thought I remembered his name as one
of the great men of the parish commemorated
by Arabella.

"I think, sir, it's a very infamous custom,
whoever practises it, to rob an unsuspicious
stranger of his dinner by cutting up his ham
into sandwiches. I declare my dinner is
quite spoilt."

"Unfortunately,"replied my visitor with a
melancholy smile, "this is the martyrdom of
Saint Hookey, or I should have been happy
to share your repast. If you prolong your
stay till to-morrow, I shall be delighted to
dine with you, for it is the festival of Saint
Dando. Meanwhile, I have called to give