like me." By which speech we may see that Mr. Pen was getting on in the
world, and could flatter as well as laugh in his sleeve.

Major Pendennis was appeased instantly, and very much pleased. He
tapped affectionately his nephew's arm on which he was leaning, and
said,--"you, sir, you are my flesh and blood! Hang it, sir, I've been
very proud of you and very fond of you, but for your confounded follies
and extravagances--and wild oats, sir, which I hope you've sown 'em.
I hope you've sown 'em; begad! My object, Arthur, is to make a man of
you--to see you well placed in the world, as becomes one of your name
and my own, sir. You have got yourself a little reputation by your
literary talents, which I am very far from undervaluing, though in my
time, begad, poetry and genius and that sort of thing were devilish
disreputable. There was poor Byron, for instance, who ruined
himself, and contracted the worst habits by living with poets and
newspaper-writers, and people of that kind: But the times are changed
now--there's a run upon literature--clever fellows get into the best
houses in town, begad! Tempora mutantur, sir; and by Jove, I suppose
whatever is is right, as Shakspeare says."

Pen did not think fit to tell his uncle who was the author who had made
use of that remarkable phrase, and here descending from the Green Park,
the pair made their way into Grosvenor Place, and to the door of the
mansion occupied there by Sir Francis and Lady Clavering.

The dining-room shutters of this handsome mansion were freshly gilded;
the knockers shone gorgeous upon the newly painted door; the balcony
before the drawing-room bloomed with a portable garden of the most
beautiful plants, and with flowers, white, and pink, and scarlet; the
windows of the upper room (the sacred chamber and dressing-room of my
lady, doubtless), and even a pretty little casement of the third story,
which keen-sighted Mr. Pen presumed to belong to the virgin bedroom of
Miss Blanche Amory, were similarly adorned with floral ornaments, and
the whole exterior face of the house presented the most brilliant aspect
which fresh new paint, shining plate-glass, newly cleaned bricks, and
spotless mortar, could offer to the beholder.

"How Strong must have rejoiced in organising all this splendour,"
thought Pen. He recognised the Chevalier's genius in the magnificence
before him.

"Lady Clavering is going out for her drive," the Major said. "We
shall only have to lea