hen the mature young
lady shrugs her epaulettes, and laughs at some private and confidential
comment from the mature young gentleman--his gloom deepens to that
degree that he trifles quite ferociously with his dessert-knife.

Mortimer proceeds.

'We must now return, as novelists say, and as we all wish they wouldn't,
to the man from Somewhere. Being a boy of fourteen, cheaply educated
at Brussels when his sister's expulsion befell, it was some little time
before he heard of it--probably from herself, for the mother was dead;
but that I don't know. Instantly, he absconded, and came over here. He
must have been a boy of spirit and resource, to get here on a stopped
allowance of five sous a week; but he did it somehow, and he burst in
on his father, and pleaded his sister's cause. Venerable parent promptly
resorts to anathematization, and turns him out. Shocked and terrified
boy takes flight, seeks his fortune, gets aboard ship, ultimately
turns up on dry land among the Cape wine: small proprietor, farmer,
grower--whatever you like to call it.'

At this juncture, shuffling is heard in the hall, and tapping is heard
at the dining-room door. Analytical Chemist goes to the door, confers
angrily with unseen tapper, appears to become mollified by descrying
reason in the tapping, and goes out.

'So he was discovered, only the other day, after having been expatriated
about fourteen years.'

A Buffer, suddenly astounding the other three, by detaching himself, and
asserting individuality, inquires: 'How discovered, and why?'

'Ah! To be sure. Thank you for reminding me. Venerable parent dies.'

Same Buffer, emboldened by success, says: 'When?'

'The other day. Ten or twelve months ago.'

Same Buffer inquires with smartness, 'What of?' But herein perishes a
melancholy example; being regarded by the three other Buffers with a
stony stare, and attracting no further attention from any mortal.

'Venerable parent,' Mortimer repeats with a passing remembrance that
there is a Veneering at table, and for the first time addressing
him--'dies.'

The gratified Veneering repeats, gravely, 'dies'; and folds his arms,
and composes his brow to hear it out in a judicial manner, when he finds
himself again deserted in the bleak world.

'His will is found,' said Mortimer, catching Mrs Podsnap's
rocking-horse's eye. 'It is dated very soon after the son's flight. It
leaves the lowest of the range of dust-mountains, with some sort of a
dw