militia officer.

"Fair and softly, young people! Everything in its turn. I am not yet
arrived at the war. I am only a young gentleman, just stepping into
a landau, by the side of a young lady whom I promised to avoid. I am
taking her hand, which, after a little ado, she leaves in mine. Do you
remember how hot it was, the little thing, how it trembled, and how it
throbbed and jumped a hundred and twenty in a minute? And as we trot on
towards Hampstead, I address Miss Lambert in the following terms----"

"Ah, ah, ah!" say the girls in a chorus with mademoiselle, their French
governess, who cries, "Nous ecoutons maintenant. La parole est a vous,
Monsieur le Chevalier!"

Here we have them all in a circle: mamma is at her side of the fire,
papa at his; Mademoiselle Eleonore, at whom the Captain looks rather
sweetly (eyes off, Captain!); the two girls, listening like--like
nymphas discentes to Apollo, let us say; and John and Tummas (with
obtuse ears), who are bringing in the tea-trays and urns.

"Very good," says the Squire, pulling out the MS., and waving it before
him. "We are going to tell your mother's secrets and mine."

"I am sure you may, papa," cries the house matron. "There's nothing to
be ashamed of." And a blush rises over her kind face.

"But before I begin, young folks, permit me two or three questions."

"Allons, toujours des questions!" says mademoiselle, with a shrug of her
pretty shoulders. (Florac has recommended her to us, and I suspect the
little Chevalier has himself an eye upon this pretty Mademoiselle de
Blois.)

To the questions, then.

CHAPTER LXXVII. And how everybody got out again

You, Captain Miles Warrington, have the honour of winning the good
graces of a lady--of ever so many ladies--of the Duchess of Devonshire,
let us say, of Mrs. Crew, of Mrs. Fitzherbert, of the Queen of Prussia,
of the Goddess Venus, of Mademoiselle Hillisberg of the Opera--never
mind of whom, in fine. If you win a lady's good graces, do you always go
to the mess and tell what happened?"

"Not such a fool, Squire!" says the Captain, surveying his side curl in
the glass.

"Have you, Miss Theo, told your mother every word you said to Mr. Joe
Blake, junior, in the shrubbery this morning?"

"Joe Blake, indeed!" cries Theo junior.

"And you, mademoiselle? That scented billet which came to you under Sir
Thomas's frank, have you told us all the letter contains? Look how she
blushes! As red as the curta