a
single moment." And down comes Miss Kicksey, quite smiling, and happy to
see him.

"Law, Mr. Deuceace!" says she, trying to blush as hard as ever she
could, "you quite surprise me! I don't know whether I ought, really,
being alone, to admit a gentleman."

"Nay, don't say so, dear Miss Kicksey! for do you know, I came here for
a double purpose--to ask about a pocket-book which I have lost, and may,
perhaps, have left here; and then, to ask you if you will have the great
goodness to pity a solitary bachelor, and give him a cup of your nice
tea?"

NICE TEA! I thot I should have split; for I'm blest if master had eaten
a morsle of dinner!

Never mind: down to tea they sat. "Do you take cream and sugar, dear
sir?" says poar Kicksey, with a voice as tender as a tuttle-duff.

"Both, dearest Miss Kicksey!" answers master; who stowed in a power of
sashong and muffinx which would have done honor to a washawoman.

I shan't describe the conversation that took place betwigst master and
this young lady. The reader, praps, knows y Deuceace took the trouble to
talk to her for an hour, and to swallow all her tea. He wanted to find
out from her all she knew about the famly money matters, and settle at
once which of the two Griffinses he should marry.

The poar thing, of cors, was no match for such a man as my master. In
a quarter of an hour, he had, if I may use the igspression, "turned her
inside out." He knew everything that she knew; and that, poar creature,
was very little. There was nine thousand a year, she had heard say,
in money, in houses, in banks in Injar, and what not. Boath the ladies
signed papers for selling or buying, and the money seemed equilly
divided betwigst them.

NINE THOUSAND A YEAR! Deuceace went away, his cheex tingling, his heart
beating. He, without a penny, could nex morning, if he liked, be master
of five thousand per hannum!

Yes. But how? Which had the money, the mother or the daughter? All the
tea-drinking had not taught him this piece of nollidge; and Deuceace
thought it a pity that he could not marry both.

. . . . . .

The ladies came back at night, mightaly pleased with their reception at
the ambasdor's; and, stepping out of their carridge, bid coachmin drive
on with a gentlemin who had handed them out--a stout old gentlemin, who
shook hands most tenderly at parting, and promised to call often upon my
Lady Griffin. He was so polite, that he wanted to mount the