e old lady. 'Fie upon you! I'm
ashamed of such conduct.'

The pony appeared to be touched by this appeal to his feelings, for he
trotted on directly, though in a sulky manner, and stopped no more
until he came to a door whereon was a brass plate with the words
'Witherden--Notary.' Here the old gentleman got out and helped out the
old lady, and then took from under the seat a nosegay resembling in
shape and dimensions a full-sized warming-pan with the handle cut short
off. This, the old lady carried into the house with a staid and
stately air, and the old gentleman (who had a club-foot) followed close
upon her.

They went, as it was easy to tell from the sound of their voices, into
the front parlour, which seemed to be a kind of office. The day being
very warm and the street a quiet one, the windows were wide open; and
it was easy to hear through the Venetian blinds all that passed inside.

At first there was a great shaking of hands and shuffling of feet,
succeeded by the presentation of the nosegay; for a voice, supposed by
the listener to be that of Mr Witherden the Notary, was heard to
exclaim a great many times, 'oh, delicious!' 'oh, fragrant, indeed!'
and a nose, also supposed to be the property of that gentleman, was
heard to inhale the scent with a snuffle of exceeding pleasure.

'I brought it in honour of the occasion, Sir,' said the old lady.

'Ah! an occasion indeed, ma'am, an occasion which does honour to me,
ma'am, honour to me,' rejoined Mr Witherden, the notary. 'I have had
many a gentleman articled to me, ma'am, many a one. Some of them are
now rolling in riches, unmindful of their old companion and friend,
ma'am, others are in the habit of calling upon me to this day and
saying, "Mr Witherden, some of the pleasantest hours I ever spent in my
life were spent in this office--were spent, Sir, upon this very stool";
but there was never one among the number, ma'am, attached as I have
been to many of them, of whom I augured such bright things as I do of
your only son.'

'Oh dear!' said the old lady. 'How happy you do make us when you tell
us that, to be sure!'

'I tell you, ma'am,' said Mr Witherden, 'what I think as an honest man,
which, as the poet observes, is the noblest work of God. I agree with
the poet in every particular, ma'am. The mountainous Alps on the one
hand, or a humming-bird on the other, is nothing, in point of
workmanship, to an honest man--or woman--or woman.'

'Anything