r, she thinks Eliza is looking
very ill. Lady Anne asks, which is Eliza? Is it the woman that was ill
before they left town? If she is ill, Mrs. Trotter had better send her
away. Mrs. Trotter is only a great deal too good-natured. She is always
keeping people who are ill. Then her ladyship begins to read the Morning
Post, and glances over the names of the persons who were present at
Baroness Bosco's ball, and Mrs. Toddle Tompkyns's soiree dansante in
Belgrave Square.

"Everybody was there," says Barnes, looking over from his paper.

"But who is Mrs. Toddle Tompkyns?" asks mamma. "Who ever heard of a Mrs.
Toddle Tompkyns? What do people mean by going to such a person?"

"Lady Popinjoy asked the people," Barnes says gravely. "The thing was
really doosed well done. The woman looked frightened; but she's pretty,
and I am told the daughter will have a great lot of money."

"Is she pretty, and did you dance with her?" asks Ethel.

"Me dance!" says Mr. Barnes. We are speaking of a time before casinos
were, and when the British youth were by no means so active in dancing
practice as at this present period. Barnes resumed the reading of his
county paper, but presently laid it down, with an execration so brisk
and loud, that his mother gave a little outcry, and even his father
looked up from his letters to ask the meaning of an oath so unexpected
and ungenteel.

"My uncle, the Colonel of sepoys, and his amiable son have been paying a
visit to Newcome--that's the news which I have the pleasure to announce
to you," says Mr. Barnes.

"You are always sneering about our uncle," breaks in Ethel, with
impetuous voice, "and saying unkind things about Clive. Our uncle is a
dear, good, kind man, and I love him. He came to Brighton to see us, and
went out every day for hours and hours with Alfred; and Clive, too, drew
pictures for him. And he is good, and kind, and generous, and honest as
his father. And Barnes is always speaking ill of him behind his back."

"And his aunt lets very nice lodgings, and is altogether a most
desirable acquaintance," says Mr. Barnes. "What a shame it is that we
have not cultivated that branch of the family!"

"My dear fellow," cries Sir Brian, "I have no doubt Miss Honeyman is
a most respectable person. Nothing is so ungenerous as to rebuke a
gentleman or a lady on account of their poverty, and I coincide with
Ethel in thinking that you speak of your uncle and his son in terms
which, to say the least,