er to their having bolted from some place or other. I don't
wish to alarm Mrs Kenwigs; but I hope they haven't come from any jail or
hospital, and brought away a fever or some unpleasantness of that sort,
which might be catching for the children.'

Mrs Kenwigs was so overpowered by this supposition, that it needed all
the tender attentions of Miss Petowker, of the Theatre Royal, Drury
Lane, to restore her to anything like a state of calmness; not to
mention the assiduity of Mr Kenwigs, who held a fat smelling-bottle to
his lady's nose, until it became matter of some doubt whether the tears
which coursed down her face were the result of feelings or SAL VOLATILE.

The ladies, having expressed their sympathy, singly and separately,
fell, according to custom, into a little chorus of soothing expressions,
among which, such condolences as 'Poor dear!'--'I should feel just the
same, if I was her'--'To be sure, it's a very trying thing'--and 'Nobody
but a mother knows what a mother's feelings is,' were among the most
prominent, and most frequently repeated. In short, the opinion of the
company was so clearly manifested, that Mr Kenwigs was on the point of
repairing to Mr Noggs's room, to demand an explanation, and had indeed
swallowed a preparatory glass of punch, with great inflexibility and
steadiness of purpose, when the attention of all present was diverted by
a new and terrible surprise.

This was nothing less than the sudden pouring forth of a rapid
succession of the shrillest and most piercing screams, from an upper
story; and to all appearance from the very two-pair back, in which
the infant Kenwigs was at that moment enshrined. They were no sooner
audible, than Mrs Kenwigs, opining that a strange cat had come in, and
sucked the baby's breath while the girl was asleep, made for the door,
wringing her hands, and shrieking dismally; to the great consternation
and confusion of the company.

'Mr Kenwigs, see what it is; make haste!' cried the sister, laying
violent hands upon Mrs Kenwigs, and holding her back by force. 'Oh don't
twist about so, dear, or I can never hold you.'

'My baby, my blessed, blessed, blessed, blessed baby!' screamed Mrs
Kenwigs, making every blessed louder than the last. 'My own darling,
sweet, innocent Lillyvick--Oh let me go to him. Let me go-o-o-o!'

Pending the utterance of these frantic cries, and the wails and
lamentations of the four little girls, Mr Kenwigs rushed upstairs to the
room w