ght. I expect her back at half-past eleven. She may need assistance
on her return."

"Assistance, sir! Mrs. Merillia, sir!"

Mr. Ferdinand's luminous eyes shone with amazement.

"She may--I say she _may_--have to be carried to bed."

Mr. Ferdinand's jaw dropped. He gave at the knees and was obliged to
cling to a Chippendale cabinet for support.

"Have an armchair ready in the hall in case of necessity and tell
Gustavus to sit up. Mrs. Merillia must not be dropped. You understand.
That will do, Mr. Ferdinand."

Mr. Ferdinand endeavoured to bow, and ultimately succeeded in retiring.
When his tremulous shoulders were no longer visible, the Prophet opened
Marcus Aurelius, and, seating himself in a corner of the big couch by
the fire, crossed his legs one over the other and began to read that
timid Ancient's consolatory, but unconvincing, remarks. Occasionally he
paused, however, murmured doubtfully, "Will she have to be carried to
bed?" shook his head mournfully and then resumed his reading.

While he thus employs his time, we must say a word or two about him.

Mr. Hennessey Vivian was now a man of thirty-eight, of excellent
fortune, of fine connections, and of admirable disposition. He had
become an orphan as soon as it was in his power to do so, having lost
his father--Captain Vivian of Her Majesty's Tenth Lancers--some months
before, and his mother--who had been a Merillia of Chipping Sudbury--a
few minutes after his birth. In these unfortunate circumstances, over
which he, poor infant, had absolutely no control--whatever unkind people
might say!--he devolved upon his mother's mother, the handsome and
popular Mrs. Merillia, who assumed his charge with the rosy alacrity
characteristic of her in all her undertakings. With her the little
Hennessey had passed his infantine years, blowing happy bubbles,
presiding over the voyages of his own private Noah--from the Army
and Navy Stores, with two hundred animals of both sexes!--eating pap
prepared by Mrs. Merillia's own _chef_, and sleeping in a cot hung with
sunny silk that might have curtained Venus or have shaken about Aurora
as she rose in the first morning of the world. From her he had acquired
the alphabet and many a ginger-nut and decorative bonbon. And from her,
too, he had set forth, with tears, in his new Eton jacket and broad
white collar, to go to Mr. Chapman's preparatory school for little boys
at Slough. Here he remained for several years, acquiring a respe