l n'y a pas?"

"_Ve_," replied Mrs Turnbull.

The first course was removed; and the second, after some delay, made its
appearance. In the interim, Mr Mortimer handed round one or two
varieties of wine.

"Drummond, will you take a glass of wine with me?" said Mr Turnbull.
"I hate your sour French wines. Will you take Madeira? I was on shore
at Madeira once for a few hours, when I was before the mast, in the--"

"Mr Turnbull, I've such an 'eadache," cried his lady, in an angry tone.
"My lord, will you take some of this?--it is _ding dong o' turf_--a
turkey, my lord."

"His lordship is fond of turkey," said Mr Smith, dictatorially.

Monsieur Tagliabue, who sat on the other side of Mrs T, found that the
turkey was in request--it was some time before he could help himself.

"C'est superbe?" said Monsieur, thrusting a truffle into his mouth.
"Apparemment, madame, n'aime pas la cuisine Anglaise?"

"_Ve_," replied Mrs Turnbull. "Madame, what will you be _h_assisted
to?" continued Mrs T.

"Tout de bon, madame."

"_Ve_; what are those by you, Mr Peters?" inquired the lady in
continuation.

"I really cannot exactly say; but they are fritters of some sort."

"Let me see--hoh! bidet du poms. Madame, will you eat some _bidet du
poms_?"

"Comment, madame, je ne vous comprends pas--"

"_Ve_."

"Monsieur Tagliabue, expliquez donc;" said the foreign lady, red as a
quarter of beef.

"Permettez," said Monsieur, looking at the card. "Ah, c'est impossible,
ma chere," continued he, laughing. "Madame Turnbull se trompait; elle
voudrait dire _Beignets de pommes_."

"Vous trouvez notre langue fort difficile, n'est-ce pas?" continued
madame, who recovered her good humour, and smiled graciously at Mrs T.

"_Ve_," replied Mrs Turnbull, who perceived that she had made some
mistake, and was anxiously awaiting the issue of the dialogue. It had,
however, the effect of checking Mrs T, who said little more during the
dinner and dessert.

At last the ladies rose from the dessert, and left the gentlemen at the
table; but we were not permitted to remain long before coffee was
announced, and we went up stairs. A variety of French liqueurs were
handed about, and praised by most of the company. Mr Turnbull,
however, ordered a glass of brandy as a _settler_.

"Oh! Mr Turnbull, I've such an 'eadache!"

After that the party became very dull. Lord Babbleton fell asleep on
the sofa. Mr Peters walked round the room, admiring