home" (and he
congratulated her ladyship on the birth of that son and heir) "ought
surely to think of him, and bring him a soldier, or a monkey, or a toy
or two."

"Oh, yes," cried Lady Raikes, "her husband must go. He must go and bring
back a soldier, or a monkey, or a dear little jack-in-the-box, for dear
little Dolly at home."

So away Raikes went; indeed nothing loth. He warmed with the noble
sport: he was one of the finest players in England. He went on playing
for a delightful half-hour; (how swiftly, in the blessed amusement, it
passed away!) he reduced several of the sticksters to bankruptcy by his
baculine skill; he returned to the carriage laden with jacks, wooden
apples and soldiers, enough to amuse all the nurseries in Pimlico.

During his absence Lady Raikes, in the most winning manner, had asked
Mr. Vincent for his arm, for a little walk; and did not notice the sneer
with which he said that his arm had always been at her service. She was
not jostled by the crowd inconveniently; she was not offended by the
people smoking (though Raikes was forbidden that amusement); and she
walked up on Mr. Vincent's arm, and somehow found herself close to the
little black brougham, in which sat gouty old Lord Cripplegate.

Gouty old Lord Cripplegate wore a light blue silk dress, a lace mantle
and other gimcracks, a white bonnet with roses, and ringlets as long as
a chancellor's wig, but of the most beautiful black hue. His lordship
had a pair of enormous eyes, that languished in a most killing manner;
and cheeks that were decorated with delicate dimples; and lips of the
color of the richest sealing-wax.

"Who's that?" asked Lady Raikes.

"That," said Mr. Vincent, "is Mrs. Somerset Montmorency."

"Who's Mrs. Somerset Montmorency?" hissed out Zuleika.

"It is possible you have not met her in society, Mrs. Somerset
Montmorency doesn't go much into society," Mr. Vincent said.

"Why did he say it was Lord Cripplegate?"

Vincent, like a fiend, burst out laughing.

"Did Raikes say it was Lord Cripplegate? Well, he ought to know."

"What ought he to know?" asked Zuleika.

"Excuse me, Lady Raikes," said the other, with his constant sneer;
"there are things which people had best not know. There are things which
people had best forget, as your ladyship very well knows. You forget;
why shouldn't Raikes forget? Let by-gones be by-gones. Let's all forget,
Zulei--I beg your pardon. Here comes Raikes. How hot he looks! He h