s I always
write to Michael at his office, I cannot swear to his number in the
King's Road. Of course (like my neighbours), I have been to dinner
there. Of late years, since his accession to wealth, neglect of
business, and election to the club, these little festivals have become
common. He picks up a few fellows in the smoking-room--all men of Attic
wit--myself, for instance, if he has the luck to find me disengaged; a
string of hansoms may be observed (by Her Majesty) bowling gaily through
St. James's Park; and in a quarter of an hour the party surrounds one of
the best appointed boards in London.

But at the time of which we write the house in the King's Road (let us
still continue to call it No. 233) was kept very quiet; when Michael
entertained guests it was at the halls of Nichol or Verrey that he would
convene them, and the door of his private residence remained closed
against his friends. The upper story, which was sunny, was set apart
for his father; the drawing-room was never opened; the dining-room was
the scene of Michael's life. It is in this pleasant apartment, sheltered
from the curiosity of King's Road by wire blinds, and entirely
surrounded by the lawyer's unrivalled library of poetry and criminal
trials, that we find him sitting down to his dinner after his holiday
with Pitman. A spare old lady, with very bright eyes and a mouth
humorously compressed, waited upon the lawyer's needs; in every line of
her countenance she betrayed the fact that she was an old retainer; in
every word that fell from her lips she flaunted the glorious
circumstance of a Scottish origin; and the fear with which this powerful
combination fills the boldest was obviously no stranger to the bosom of
our friend. The hot Scotch having somewhat warmed up the embers of the
Heidsieck, it was touching to observe the master's eagerness to pull
himself together under the servant's eye; and when he remarked, "I
think, Teena, I'll take a brandy and soda," he spoke like a man doubtful
of his elocution, and not half certain of obedience.

"No such a thing, Mr. Michael," was the prompt return. "Clar't and
water."

"Well, well, Teena, I daresay you know best," said the master. "Very
fatiguing day at the office, though."

"What?" said the retainer, "ye never were near the office!"

"O yes, I was though; I was repeatedly along Fleet Street," returned
Michael.

"Pretty pliskies ye've been at this day!" cried the old lady, with
humorous ala