rrit, with best wishes,' said Mrs Merdle. 'If we could
only come to a Millennium, or something of that sort, I for one might
have the pleasure of knowing a number of charming and talented persons
from whom I am at present excluded. A more primitive state of society
would be delicious to me. There used to be a poem when I learnt lessons,
something about Lo the poor Indians whose something mind! If a few
thousand persons moving in Society, could only go and be Indians, I
would put my name down directly; but as, moving in Society, we can't be
Indians, unfortunately--Good morning!'

They came down-stairs with powder before them and powder behind, the
elder sister haughty and the younger sister humbled, and were shut out
into unpowdered Harley Street, Cavendish Square.

'Well?' said Fanny, when they had gone a little way without speaking.
'Have you nothing to say, Amy?'

'Oh, I don't know what to say!' she answered, distressed. 'You didn't
like this young man, Fanny?'

'Like him? He is almost an idiot.'

'I am so sorry--don't be hurt--but, since you ask me what I have to
say, I am so very sorry, Fanny, that you suffered this lady to give you
anything.'

'You little Fool!' returned her sister, shaking her with the sharp pull
she gave her arm. 'Have you no spirit at all? But that's just the way!
You have no self-respect, you have no becoming pride, just as you allow
yourself to be followed about by a contemptible little Chivery of a
thing,' with the scornfullest emphasis, 'you would let your family be
trodden on, and never turn.'

'Don't say that, dear Fanny. I do what I can for them.'

'You do what you can for them!' repeated Fanny, walking her on very
fast. 'Would you let a woman like this, whom you could see, if you had
any experience of anything, to be as false and insolent as a woman can
be--would you let her put her foot upon your family, and thank her for
it?'

'No, Fanny, I am sure.' 'Then make her pay for it, you mean little
thing. What else can you make her do? Make her pay for it, you stupid
child; and do your family some credit with the money!'

They spoke no more all the way back to the lodging where Fanny and her
uncle lived. When they arrived there, they found the old man practising
his clarionet in the dolefullest manner in a corner of the room.
Fanny had a composite meal to make, of chops, and porter, and tea; and
indignantly pretended to prepare it for herself, though her sister did
all that in