this brocaded youth, who seated himself in an arm-chair, spreading
out his crimson skirts, and looking with exceeding kindness and
frankness on the other two tenants of the room. "You seem to like my
dressing-gown, sir," he said to Mr. Tatham. "A pretty thing, isn't it?
Neat, but not in the least gaudy. And how do you do, Major Pendennis,
sir, and how does the world treat you?"

There was that in Foker's manner and appearance which would have put
an Inquisitor into good humour, and it smoothed the wrinkles under
Pendennis's head of hair.

"I have had an interview with that Irishman (you may speak before my
friend, Mr. Tatham here, who knows all the affairs of the family), and
it has not, I own, been very satisfactory. He won't believe that my
nephew is poor: he says we are both liars: he did me the honour to hint
that I was a coward, as I took leave. And I thought when you knocked at
the door, that you might be the gentleman whom I expect with a challenge
from Mr. Costigan--that is how the world treats me, Mr. Foker."

"You don't mean that Irishman, the actress's father?" cried Mr. Tatham,
who was a dissenter himself, and did not patronise the drama.

"That Irishman, the actress's father--the very man. Have not you heard
what a fool my nephew has made of himself about the girl?"--Mr. Tatham,
who never entered the walls of a theatre, had heard nothing: and Major
Pendennis had to recount the story of his nephew's loves to the lawyer,
Mr. Foker coming in with appropriate comments in his usual familiar
language.

Tatham was lost in wonder at the narrative. Why had not Mrs. Pendennis
married a serious man, he thought--Mr. Tatham was a widower--and kept
this unfortunate boy from perdition? As for Mr. Costigan's daughter, he
would say nothing: her profession was sufficient to characterise her.
Mr. Foker here interposed to say he had known some uncommon good people
in the booths, as he called the Temple of the Muses. Well, it might be
so, Mr. Tatham hoped so--but the father, Tatham knew personally--a
man of the worst character, a wine-bibber and an idler in taverns and
billiard-rooms, and a notorious insolvent. "I can understand the
reason, Major," he said, "why the fellow would not come to my office
to ascertain the truth of the statements which you made him.--We have
a writ out against him and another disreputable fellow, one of the
play-actors, for a bill given to Mr. Skinner of this city, a most
respectable Grocer and