you like London dinner parties?"

"I never was at one before."

"Never at one before! I thought you had lived in London all your
life."

"So I have; but we never used to dine out. My brother was an
invalid."

"And do they do the thing well at Littlebath?"

"I never dined out there. You think it very odd, I dare say, but I
never was at a dinner party in my life--not before this."

"Don't the Balls see much company?"

"No, very little; none of that kind."

"Dear me. It comes so often to us here that we get tired of it. I do,
at least. I'm not always up to this kind of thing. Champagne--if you
please. Miss Mackenzie, you will take some champagne?"

Now had come the crisis of the evening, the moment that was all
important, and Grandairs was making his round in all the pride of his
vocation. But Mrs Mackenzie was by no means so proud at the present
conjuncture of affairs. There was but one bottle of champagne. "So
little wine is drank now, that, what is the good of getting more? Of
course the children won't have it." So she had spoken to her husband.
And who shall blame her or say where economy ends, or where meanness
begins? She had wanted no champagne herself, but had wished to treat
her friends well. She had seized a moment after Grandairs had come,
and Mrs Slumpy was not yet there, to give instructions to the great
functionary.

"Don't mind me with the champagne, nor yet Mr Tom, nor the young
ladies."

Thus she had reduced the number to six, and had calculated that
the bottle would certainly be good for that number, with probably
a second glass for the doctor and Mr Rubb. But Grandairs had not
condescended to be put out of his way by such orders as these. The
bottle had first come to Miss Colza, and then Tom's glass had been
filled, and Susanna's--through no fault of theirs, innocent bairns,
"but on purpose!" as Mrs Mackenzie afterwards declared to her husband
when speaking of the man's iniquity. And I think it had been done on
purpose. The same thing occurred with Mary Jane--till Mrs Mackenzie,
looking on, could have cried. The girl's glass was filled full, and
she did give a little shriek at last. But what availed shrieking?
When the bottle came round behind Mrs Mackenzie back to Dr Slumpy, it
was dry, and the wicked wretch held the useless nozzle triumphantly
over the doctor's glass.

"Give me some sherry, then," said the doctor.

The little dishes which had been brought round after the fish, three