wee've seen,--my lord
driving home in my lady's carridge, her ladyship and Miss walking up
stairs to their own apartmince.

Here, for a wonder, was poar Miss Kicksey quite happy and smiling, and
evidently full of a secret,--something mighty pleasant, to judge from
her loox. She did not long keep it. As she was making tea for the ladies
(for in that house they took a cup regular before bedtime), "Well, my
lady," says she, "who do you think has been to drink tea with me?" Poar
thing, a frendly face was a event in her life--a tea-party quite a hera!

"Why, perhaps, Lenoir my maid," says my lady, looking grave. "I wish,
Miss Kicksey, you would not demean yourself by mixing with my domestics.
Recollect, madam, that you are sister to Lady Griffin."

"No, my lady, it was not Lenoir; it was a gentleman, and a handsome
gentleman, too."

"Oh, it was Monsieur de l'Orge, then," says Miss; "he promised to bring
me some guitar-strings."

"No, nor yet M. de l'Orge. He came, but was not so polite as to ask
for me. What do you think of your own beau, the Honorable Mr. Algernon
Deuceace;" and, so saying, poar Kicksey clapped her hands together, and
looked as joyfle as if she'd come in to a fortin.

"Mr. Deuceace here; and why, pray?" says my lady, who recklected all
that his exlent pa had been saying to her.

"Why, in the first place, he had left his pocket-book, and in the
second, he wanted, he said, a dish of my nice tea; which he took, and
stayed with me an hour, or moar."

"And pray, Miss Kicksey," said Miss Matilda, quite contempshusly, "what
may have been the subject of your conversation with Mr. Algernon? Did
you talk politics, or music, or fine arts, or metaphysics?" Miss M.
being what was called a blue (as most hump-backed women in sosiaty are),
always made a pint to speak on these grand subjects.

"No, indeed; he talked of no such awful matters. If he had, you know,
Matilda, I should never have understood him. First we talked about the
weather, next about muffins and crumpets. Crumpets, he said, he liked
best; and then we talked" (here Miss Kicksey's voice fell) "about poor
dear Sir George in heaven! what a good husband he was, and--"

"What a good fortune he left, eh, Miss Kicksey?" says my lady, with a
hard, snearing voice, and a diabollicle grin.

"Yes, dear Leonora, he spoke so respectfully of your blessed husband,
and seemed so anxious about you and Matilda, it was quite charming to
hear him, dear man!"

"An