is right.

"That slender young man with the Vandyke beard, cutting into a cake, you
may not need to be told, is Patching, the painter of those delicious
interiors which have been seen every year by those who had eyes to find
them, in obscure corners at the rooms of the National Academy of Design.
In short, Patching is the subject of a conspiracy in which the Hanging
Committee is implicated. But though professional envy may place his
works in the worst possible light, and for some time cast a shadow over
his prospects, an independent public taste will ultimately appreciate
his genius. Mark the melancholy that overspreads his features, as he
tastes that glass of sherry. Next to TRUTH, melancholy is the chief
characteristic of his style. In a miniature portrait which he painted of
me, last year, and which is regarded as a capital likeness, he
introduced a shade of sadness, which is, at least, not habitual
with me."

Mr. Overtop hastened to say, that of _that_ fact he needed no assurance.

"Without giving a minute account of all my guests, I may say generally,
that they include novelists, dramatists, actors, and musicians. Some
you may know by sight. The acquaintance of all you may make at a
future time."

At this strong hint, Mr. Overtop replied, that he should be only too
happy. He had by this time come to the conclusion that there never was a
more candid and delightful widow than Mrs. Slapman; and, furthermore,
that she was that rarity--a sensible woman--of which he had been so long
in search. Mr. Overtop mentally hugged himself.

"By the way, sir--you will pardon the impertinence of the question--but
to what profession do you belong?"

"I am a lawyer, madam," said he, fearful that the announcement would not
be well received. "Fayette Overtop, firm of Overtop & Maltboy."

Mrs. Slapman mused a moment, and said:

"It is a little singular, that, among my large collection--I mean
circle--of friends, there shouldn't be a single lawyer."

"As I am a _single_ lawyer, Mrs. Slapman, it is within my power to
supply that deficiency among those who are honored with your
friendship." Mr. Overtop thought, with some reason, as he finished this
remark, that he had never said a better thing in his life.

Mrs. Slapman's severe taste rejected Overtop's pun, but not himself, and
she was about to say that she should put him on the list for her next
_conversazione_, when another awkward interruption occurred, in
this wise:

Sign