lush breeches, one--; they are not worth a
couple of pounds altogether," continued he, stuffing the tobacco into his
pipe, which he relighted, and no more was said. Nicholas was the third
in, or rather _out._ "It appears to me," observed he;--but what appeared
is lost, as some new idea flitted across his imagination, and he
commenced his second pipe without further remark.

Some ten minutes after this, Mr Spinney handed the pot of porter to the
curate, and subsequently to the rest of the party. They all took
largely, then puffed away as before.

How long this cabinet-council might have continued, it is impossible to
say; but "Silence," who was in "the chair," was soon afterwards driven
from his post of honour by the most implacable of his enemies, a
"woman's tongue."

"Well, Mr Forster! well, gentlemen! do you mean to poison me? Have you
made smell and dirt enough? How long is this to last, I should like to
know?" cried Mrs Forster, entering the room. "I tell you what, Mr
Forster, you had better hang up a sign at once, and keep an ale-house.
Let the sign be a Fool's Head, like your own. I wonder you are not
ashamed of yourself, Mr Curate; you that ought to set an example to your
parishioners!"

But Mr Dragwell did not admire such remonstrance; so taking his pipe out
of his mouth, he retorted--"If your husband does put up a sign, I
recommend him to stick you up as the 'Good Woman;' that would be without
your head--Ha, ha, ha!"

"He, he, he!"

"He, he, he! you pitiful 'natomy," cried Mrs Forster, in a rage, turning
to the clerk, as she dared not revenge herself upon the curate. "Take
that for your He, he, he!" and she swung round the empty pewter pot,
which she snatched from the table, upon the bald pericranium of Mr
Spinney, who tumbled off his chair, and rolled upon the sanded floor.

The remainder of the party were on their legs in an instant. Newton
jerked the weapon out of his mother's hands, and threw it in a corner of
the room. Nicholas was aghast; he surmised that his turn would come
next; and so it proved--"An't you ashamed of yourself, Mr Forster, to see
me treated in this way--bringing a parcel of drunken men into the house to
insult me? Will you order them out, or not, sir?--Are we to have quiet or
not?"

"Yes, my love," replied Nicholas, confused, "yes, my dear, by-and-bye as
soon as you're--"

Mrs Forster darted towards her husband with the ferocity of a mad cat.
Hilton, perceiving the danger of