make the house. Tag-rag
agreed with him. Then there was a little pause. None of the party knew
exactly which way to look, nor in what posture to sit. Faint "hems" were
occasionally heard. In short, no one felt _at home_.

"Been to church, mem, this morning, mem?" timidly inquired Titmouse of
Miss Tag-rag--the first time of his daring to address her.

"Yes, sir," she replied, faintly coloring, casting her eyes to the
ground, and suddenly putting her hand into that of her mother--with
_such_ an innocent, engaging simplicity--like a timid fawn lying as
close as possible to its dam![13]

"We always go to _chapel_, sir," said Mrs. Tag-rag, confidently, in
spite of a deadly look from her husband; "the _gospel_ a'n't preached in
the Church of England! We sit under Mr. Horror--a heavenly preacher!
You've heard of Mr. Horror?"

"Yes, mem! Oh, yes! Capital preacher!" replied Titmouse, who of course
(being a true churchman) had never in his life heard of Mr. Horror, or
any other dissenter.

"When _will_ dinner be ready, Mrs. T.?" inquired Tag-rag, abruptly, and
with a very perceptible dash of sternness in his tone; but dinner was
announced the very next moment. He took his wife's arm, and in doing so,
gave it a sudden vehement pressure, which, coupled with a furious
glance, explained to her the extent to which she had incurred his anger!

Titmouse's offered arm the timid Miss Tag-rag scarcely touched with the
tip of her finger, as she walked beside him to dinner. He soon got
tolerably composed and cheerful at dinner, (which, contrary to their
usual custom--which was to have a cheerless _cold_ dinner on the
Sabbath--consisted of a little piece of nice roast beef, with plenty of
horse-radish, Yorkshire pudding, a boiled fowl, a plum-pudding made by
Mrs. Tag-rag, and custards which had been superintended by Miss Tag-rag
herself,) and, to oblige his hospitable host and hostess, ate till he
was near bursting. Miss Tag-rag, though really very hungry, could be
prevailed upon to take only a very small slice of beef and a quarter of
a custard, and drank a third of a glass of quasi sherry (_i. e._ Cape
wine) after dinner. She never once spoke, except in hurried answers, to
her papa and mamma; and sitting exactly opposite Titmouse, (with a big
plate of greens and a boiled fowl between them,) was continually
coloring whenever their eyes happened to encounter one another, on which
occasions, hers would suddenly drop, as if overpowered by