singing, to my inordnit
igstonishment:

"See the conquering hero comes!
Tiddy diddy doll--tiddy doll, doll, doll."

He began singing this song, and tearing up and down the room like mad.
I stood amazd--a new light broke in upon me. He wasn't going, then, to
make love to Miss Griffin! Master might marry her! Had she not got the
for--?

I say, I was just standing stock still, my eyes fixt, my hands
puppindicklar, my mouf wide open and these igstrordinary thoughts
passing in my mind, when my lord having got to the last "doll" of his
song, just as I came to the sillible "for" of my ventriloquism, or
inward speech--we had eatch jest reached the pint digscribed, when the
meditations of both were sudnly stopt, by my lord, in the midst of his
singin and trottin match, coming bolt up aginst poar me, sending me up
aginst one end of the room, himself flying back to the other: and it
was only after considrabble agitation that we were at length restored to
anything like a liquilibrium.

"What, YOU here, you infernal rascal?" says my lord.

"Your lordship's very kind to notus me," says I; "I am here." And I gave
him a look.

He saw I knew the whole game.

And after whisling a bit, as was his habit when puzzled (I bleave
he'd have only whisled if he had been told he was to be hanged in five
minits), after whisling a bit, he stops sudnly, and coming up to me,
says:

"Hearkye, Charles, this marriage must take place to-morrow."

"Must it, sir?" says I; "now, for my part, I don't think--"

"Stop, my good fellow; if it does not take place, what do you gain?"

This stagger'd me. If it didn't take place, I only lost a situation, for
master had but just enough money to pay his detts; and it wooden soot my
book to serve him in prisn or starving.

"Well," says my lord, "you see the force of my argument. Now, look
here!" and he lugs out a crisp, fluttering, snowy HUNDRED-PUN NOTE! "If
my son and Miss Griffin are married to-morrow, you shall have this; and
I will, moreover, take you into my service, and give you double your
present wages."

Flesh and blood cooden bear it. "My lord," says I, laying my hand upon
my busm, "only give me security, and I'm yours for ever."

The old noblemin grin'd, and pattid me on the shoulder. "Right, my
lad," says he, "right--you're a nice promising youth. Here is the best
security." And he pulls out his pockit-book, returns the hundred-pun
bill, and takes out one for fifty. "Here i