be of an enormous size all his limbs--his nose, his mouth,
his toes--were elephantine! An elephant was a pigmy to him. And his
hugeousness seemed to increase the instant he shut his eyes. He turned
on this side; he turned on that. He lay on his back; he tried putting
his face to the pillow; and he continued to swell. He wondered the
room could hold him--he thought he must burst it--and absolutely lit a
candle, and went to the looking-glass to see whether he was bearable.

By this time Adrian and Richard were laughing uncontrollably. He had,
however, a genial auditor in the Eighteenth Century, who declared it to
be a new disease, not known in her day, and deserving investigation.
She was happy to compare sensations with him, but hers were not of
the complex order, and a potion soon righted her. In fact, her system
appeared to be a debatable ground for aliment and medicine, on which
the battle was fought, and, when over, she was none the worse, as she
joyfully told Hippias. Never looked ploughman on prince, or village
belle on Court Beauty, with half the envy poor nineteenth-century
Hippias expended in his gaze on the Eighteenth. He was too serious to
note much the laughter of the young men.

This 'Tragedy of a Cooking-Apparatus,' as Adrian designated the malady
of Hippias, was repeated regularly ever evening. It was natural for any
youth to escape as quick as he could from such a table of stomachs.

Adrian bore with his conduct considerately, until a letter from the
baronet, describing the house and maternal System of a Mrs. Caroline
Grandison, and the rough grain of hopefulness in her youngest daughter,
spurred him to think of his duties, and see what was going on. He gave
Richard half-an-hour's start, and then put on his hat to follow his own
keen scent, leaving Hippias and the Eighteenth Century to piquet.

In the lane near Belthorpe he met a maid of the farm not unknown to him,
one Molly Davenport by name, a buxom lass, who, on seeing him, invoked
her Good Gracious, the generic maid's familiar, and was instructed by
reminiscences vivid, if ancient, to giggle.

"Are you looking for your young gentleman?" Molly presently asked.

Adrian glanced about the lane like a cool brigand, to see if the coast
was clear, and replied to her, "I am, miss. I want you to tell me about
him."

"Dear!" said the buxom lass, "was you coming for me to-night to know?"

Adrian rebuked her: for her bad grammar, apparently.

"'Cause I