aved in a more dignified manner. What did you do?'

'Do?--Frank took dummy; and I won sixpence.'

'But, didn't you apologise for hurting her feelings?'

'Devil a bit. Next morning at breakfast, we talked it over. She
contended that any reference to a flannel petticoat was improper;--men
ought not to be supposed to know that such things were. I pleaded my
coverture; being a married man.'

'And what did the lady say to that?' inquired Tottle, deeply interested.

'Changed her ground, and said that Frank being a single man, its
impropriety was obvious.'

'Noble-minded creature!' exclaimed the enraptured Tottle.

'Oh! both Fanny and I said, at once, that she was regularly cut out for
you.'

A gleam of placid satisfaction shone on the circular face of Mr. Watkins
Tottle, as he heard the prophecy.

'There's one thing I can't understand,' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, as he
rose to depart; 'I cannot, for the life and soul of me, imagine how the
deuce you'll ever contrive to come together. The lady would certainly go
into convulsions if the subject were mentioned.' Mr. Gabriel Parsons sat
down again, and laughed until he was weak. Tottle owed him money, so he
had a perfect right to laugh at Tottle's expense.

Mr. Watkins Tottle feared, in his own mind, that this was another
characteristic which he had in common with this modern Lucretia. He,
however, accepted the invitation to dine with the Parsonses on the next
day but one, with great firmness: and looked forward to the introduction,
when again left alone, with tolerable composure.

The sun that rose on the next day but one, had never beheld a sprucer
personage on the outside of the Norwood stage, than Mr. Watkins Tottle;
and when the coach drew up before a cardboard-looking house with
disguised chimneys, and a lawn like a large sheet of green letter-paper,
he certainly had never lighted to his place of destination a gentleman
who felt more uncomfortable.

The coach stopped, and Mr. Watkins Tottle jumped--we beg his
pardon--alighted, with great dignity. 'All right!' said he, and away
went the coach up the hill with that beautiful equanimity of pace for
which 'short' stages are generally remarkable.

Mr. Watkins Tottle gave a faltering jerk to the handle of the garden-gate
bell. He essayed a more energetic tug, and his previous nervousness was
not at all diminished by hearing the bell ringing like a fire alarum.

'Is Mr. Parsons at home?' inquired Tottle of