hquake, I believe, would not have
quickened his movements.

"How d'ye do?" responded I to his mono-syllabical greeting. "I say, old
fellow," I continued, "did you chance to see which way two ladies went
who came out a minute or so before myself? One was middle-aged, or
thereabouts; the other young; both were dressed in half-mourning. They
looked strangers to the parish, I think: you must have seen them, I'm
sure, eh?"

"Bai-ey Je-ove! Two middle-aged ladies; one dwessed in hawf-mawning?--"

"Nonsense, Horner!" said I, interrupting him; "what a mess you are
making of it! I said _one_ lady was middle-aged; and _both_ dressed in
half-mourning."

"Weally, now? No, Lorton, 'pon honah; didn't see 'em, I asshaw you.
Was it Baby Blake and her moth-ah, now, ah?" and he smiled complacently,
as if he had given me a fund of information.

"Baby Blake!" I ejaculated in disgust--"why, Horner, you're quite
absurd. Do you take me for a fool? I think I ought to know Baby Blake
as well as yourself by this time, my Solon!"

"Yaas; but, my deah fellah, I don't know who you know, you know. Bai-ey
Je-ove! there's _Lizzie_ Dangler. Who's that man she's got in tow, ah?"

"Hang Lizzie Dangler!" I exclaimed, impatiently. "Can't you answer a
question for once in your life--did you see them, or not?"

"Weally, Lorton," said he, in quite an imploring way, "you needn't get
angwy with a fellah, because he can't tell you what you want to know,
you know! It's weally too hot for that sawt of thing. I didn't see
them, I tell you. I can't say mo-ah than that, can I? You mustn't
expect a fellah to see evwybody. Why, it's seem-plee impawsible!"

His languid drawl exasperated me.

"Oh, bother!" I muttered, sotto voce, but loud enough for him to hear;
and turned away from him angrily, leaving him still standing in his pet
attitude, taking mental stock of all the fast-looking fair ones who
might come under his notice. "Oh, bother?" I am not prepared to assert
positively that I did not use a much stronger expletive. He _ought_ to
have seen them! What the deuce was the use of his sticking star-gazing
there, unless to observe people, I should like to know?

Just fancy, too, his comparing my last madonna, the image and eidolon of
whose witching face filled my heart, to that odious little flirt, Baby
Blake, a young damsel that hawked her tender affections about at the
beck and call of every male biped who might for the moment be en