efore, in his
delicacy, and impressed it on his great chief more and more.

While they were thus engaged; and under the skilful culture of the
Manager, angry thoughts in reference to poor Florence brooded and bred
in Mr Dombey's breast, usurping the place of the cold dislike that
generally reigned there; Major Bagstock, much admired by the old ladies
of Leamington, and followed by the Native, carrying the usual amount
of light baggage, straddled along the shady side of the way, to make a
morning call on Mrs Skewton. It being midday when the Major reached the
bower of Cleopatra, he had the good fortune to find his Princess on her
usual sofa, languishing over a cup of coffee, with the room so darkened
and shaded for her more luxurious repose, that Withers, who was in
attendance on her, loomed like a phantom page.

'What insupportable creature is this, coming in?' said Mrs Skewton, 'I
cannot hear it. Go away, whoever you are!'

'You have not the heart to banish J. B., Ma'am!' said the Major halting
midway, to remonstrate, with his cane over his shoulder.

'Oh it's you, is it? On second thoughts, you may enter,' observed
Cleopatra.

The Major entered accordingly, and advancing to the sofa pressed her
charming hand to his lips.

'Sit down,' said Cleopatra, listlessly waving her fan, 'a long way off.
Don't come too near me, for I am frightfully faint and sensitive this
morning, and you smell of the Sun. You are absolutely tropical.'

'By George, Ma'am,' said the Major, 'the time has been when Joseph
Bagstock has been grilled and blistered by the Sun; then time was, when
he was forced, Ma'am, into such full blow, by high hothouse heat in
the West Indies, that he was known as the Flower. A man never heard of
Bagstock, Ma'am, in those days; he heard of the Flower--the Flower of
Ours. The Flower may have faded, more or less, Ma'am,' observed the
Major, dropping into a much nearer chair than had been indicated by
his cruel Divinity, 'but it is a tough plant yet, and constant as the
evergreen.'

Here the Major, under cover of the dark room, shut up one eye, rolled
his head like a Harlequin, and, in his great self-satisfaction, perhaps
went nearer to the confines of apoplexy than he had ever gone before.

'Where is Mrs Granger?' inquired Cleopatra of her page.

Withers believed she was in her own room.

'Very well,' said Mrs Skewton. 'Go away, and shut the door. I am
engaged.'

As Withers disappeared, Mrs Skewton turn