company, so that, in all probability, the various flirtations,
_liaisons_, and so forth, which naturally take place in the society, are
not only the subject of amusement to the parties engaged, but also to
the lookers on; that is to say, generally speaking, to the whole
community, of which for the time the said parties are members. Lady
Penelope, the presiding goddess of the region, watchful over all her
circle, was not long of observing that the Doctor seemed to be suddenly
engaged in close communication with the widow, and that he had even
ventured to take hold of her fair plump hand, with a manner which
partook at once of the gallant suitor, and of the medical adviser.

"For the love of Heaven," said her ladyship, "who can that comely dame
be, on whom our excellent and learned Doctor looks with such uncommon
regard?"

"Fat, fair, and forty," said Mr. Winterblossom; "that is all I know of
her--a mercantile person."

"A carrack, Sir President," said the chaplain, "richly laden with
colonial produce, by name the Lovely Peggy Bryce--no master--the late
John Blower of North Leith having pushed off his boat for the Stygian
Creek, and left the vessel without a hand on board."

"The Doctor," said Lady Penelope, turning her glass towards them, "seems
willing to play the part of pilot."

"I dare say he will be willing to change her name and register," said
Mr. Chatterly.

"He can be no less in common requital," said Winterblossom. "She has
changed _his_ name six times in the five minutes that I stood within
hearing of them."

"What do you think of the matter, my dear Lady Binks?" said Lady
Penelope.

"Madam?" said Lady Binks, starting from a reverie, and answering as one
who either had not heard, or did not understand the question.

"I mean, what think you of what is going on yonder?"

Lady Binks turned her glass in the direction of Lady Penelope's glance,
fixed the widow and the Doctor with one bold fashionable stare, and then
dropping her hand slowly, said with indifference, "I really see nothing
there worth thinking about."

"I dare say it is a fine thing to be married," said Lady Penelope;
"one's thoughts, I suppose, are so much engrossed with one's own perfect
happiness, that they have neither time nor inclination to laugh like
other folks. Miss Rachel Bonnyrigg would have laughed till her eyes ran
over, had she seen what Lady Binks cares so little about--I dare say it
must be an all-sufficient happiness to