deavour to make an arrangement
with your creditors; and who can make a better bargain with them than
pretty Mrs. Titmarsh here, whose sweet eyes would soften the
hardest-hearted tailor or milliner that ever lived?"

Accordingly my dear girl, one bright day in February, shook me by the
hand, and bidding me be of good cheer, set forth with Gus in a coach, to
pay a visit to those persons. Little did I think a year before, that the
daughter of the gallant Smith should ever be compelled to be a suppliant
to tailors and haberdashers; but _she_, Heaven bless her! felt none of
the shame which oppressed me--or _said_ she felt none--and went away,
nothing doubting, on her errand.

In the evening she came back, and my heart thumped to know the news. I
saw it was bad by her face. For some time she did not speak, but looked
as pale as death, and wept as she kissed me. "_You_ speak, Mr.
Augustus," at last said she, sobbing; and so Gus told me the
circumstances of that dismal day.

"What do you think, Sam?" says he; "that infernal aunt of yours, at whose
command you had the things, has written to the tradesmen to say that you
are a swindler and impostor; that you give out that _she_ ordered the
goods; that she is ready to drop down dead, and to take her bible-oath
she never did any such thing, and that they must look to you alone for
payment. Not one of them would hear of letting you out; and as for
Mantalini, the scoundrel was so insolent that I gave him a box on the
ear, and would have half-killed him, only poor Mary--Mrs. Titmarsh I
mean--screamed and fainted: and I brought her away, and here she is, as
ill as can be."

That night, the indefatigable Gus was obliged to run post-haste for
Doctor Salts, and next morning a little boy was born. I did not know
whether to be sad or happy, as they showed me the little weakly thing;
but Mary was the happiest woman, she declared, in the world, and forgot
all her sorrows in nursing the poor baby; she went bravely through her
time, and vowed that it was the loveliest child in the world; and that
though Lady Tiptoff, whose confinement we read of as having taken place
the same day, might have a silk bed and a fine house in Grosvenor Square,
she never never could have such a beautiful child as our dear little Gus:
for after whom should we have named the boy, if not after our good kind
friend? We had a little party at the christening, and I assure you were
very merry over our tea.

Th