by. As the trump card was turned up, at the
commencement of the second deal, two young ladies hurried into the room,
and took their stations on either side of Mrs. Colonel Wugsby's chair,
where they waited patiently until the hand was over.

'Now, Jane,' said Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, turning to one of the girls,
'what is it?' 'I came to ask, ma, whether I might dance with the
youngest Mr. Crawley,' whispered the prettier and younger of the two.

'Good God, Jane, how can you think of such things?' replied the mamma
indignantly. 'Haven't you repeatedly heard that his father has eight
hundred a year, which dies with him? I am ashamed of you. Not on any
account.'

'Ma,' whispered the other, who was much older than her sister, and very
insipid and artificial, 'Lord Mutanhed has been introduced to me. I said
I thought I wasn't engaged, ma.'

'You're a sweet pet, my love,' replied Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, tapping
her daughter's cheek with her fan, 'and are always to be trusted. He's
immensely rich, my dear. Bless you!' With these words Mrs. Colonel
Wugsby kissed her eldest daughter most affectionately, and frowning in a
warning manner upon the other, sorted her cards.

Poor Mr. Pickwick! he had never played with three thorough-paced female
card-players before. They were so desperately sharp, that they quite
frightened him. If he played a wrong card, Miss Bolo looked a small
armoury of daggers; if he stopped to consider which was the right one,
Lady Snuphanuph would throw herself back in her chair, and smile with a
mingled glance of impatience and pity to Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, at which
Mrs. Colonel Wugsby would shrug up her shoulders, and cough, as much
as to say she wondered whether he ever would begin. Then, at the end
of every hand, Miss Bolo would inquire with a dismal countenance and
reproachful sigh, why Mr. Pickwick had not returned that diamond, or led
the club, or roughed the spade, or finessed the heart, or led through
the honour, or brought out the ace, or played up to the king, or some
such thing; and in reply to all these grave charges, Mr. Pickwick would
be wholly unable to plead any justification whatever, having by this
time forgotten all about the game. People came and looked on, too, which
made Mr. Pickwick nervous. Besides all this, there was a great deal of
distracting conversation near the table, between Angelo Bantam and the
two Misses Matinter, who, being single and singular, paid great court to
the Master of