George's rising prospects, when Bella is
present. It might seem like taunting her with her own poor fortunes.
Let me ever remember that I am her younger sister, and ever spare her
painful contrasts, which could not but wound her sharply.'

Mr Sampson expressed his belief that such was the demeanour of Angels.
Miss Lavvy replied with solemnity, 'No, dearest George, I am but too
well aware that I am merely human.'

Mrs Wilfer, for her part, still further improved the occasion by sitting
with her eyes fastened on her husband, like two great black notes of
interrogation, severely inquiring, Are you looking into your breast? Do
you deserve your blessings? Can you lay your hand upon your heart and
say that you are worthy of so hysterical a daughter? I do not ask you if
you are worthy of such a wife--put Me out of the question--but are
you sufficiently conscious of, and thankful for, the pervading moral
grandeur of the family spectacle on which you are gazing? These
inquiries proved very harassing to R. W. who, besides being a little
disturbed by wine, was in perpetual terror of committing himself by the
utterance of stray words that would betray his guilty foreknowledge.
However, the scene being over, and--all things considered--well over, he
sought refuge in a doze; which gave his lady immense offence.

'Can you think of your daughter Bella, and sleep?' she disdainfully
inquired.

To which he mildly answered, 'Yes, I think I can, my dear.'

'Then,' said Mrs Wilfer, with solemn indignation, 'I would recommend
you, if you have a human feeling, to retire to bed.'

'Thank you, my dear,' he replied; 'I think it IS the best place for me.'
And with these unsympathetic words very gladly withdrew.

Within a few weeks afterwards, the Mendicant's bride (arm-in-arm with
the Mendicant) came to tea, in fulfilment of an engagement made through
her father. And the way in which the Mendicant's bride dashed at the
unassailable position so considerately to be held by Miss Lavy, and
scattered the whole of the works in all directions in a moment, was
triumphant.

'Dearest Ma,' cried Bella, running into the room with a radiant face,
'how do you do, dearest Ma?' And then embraced her, joyously. 'And Lavvy
darling, how do YOU do, and how's George Sampson, and how is he getting
on, and when are you going to be married, and how rich are you going
to grow? You must tell me all about it, Lavvy dear, immediately.
John, love, kiss Ma and Lavvy,