CHAPTER XXI.
A NIGHT AT HOWTH.
"And must you really leave us so soon," said Tom as we issued forth into the street; "why I was just planning a whole week's adventure for you.
Town is so full of all kinds of idle people, I think I could manage to make your time pass pleasantly enough." "Of that," I replied, "I have little doubt; but for the reasons I have just mentioned, it is absolutely necessary that I should not lose a moment; and after arranging a few things here, I shall start to-morrow by the earliest packet, and hasten up to London at once." "By Jupiter," said Tom, "how lucky.

I just remember something, which comes admirably apropos.

You are going to Paris--is it not so ?" "Yes, direct to Paris." "Nothing could be better.

There is a particularly nice person, a great friend of mine, Mrs.Bingham, waiting for several days in hopes of a chaperon to take care of herself and daughter--a lovely girl, only nineteen, you wretch--to London, en route to the continent: the mamma a delightful woman, and a widow, with a very satisfactory jointure--you understand--but the daughter, a regular downright beauty, and a ward in chancery, with how many thousand pounds I am afraid to trust myself to say.

You must know then they are the Binghams of--, upon my soul, I forget where; but highly respectable." "I regret I have not the pleasure of their acquaintance, and the more because I shall not be able to make it now." "As why ?" said Tom gravely.
"Because, in the first place, I am so confoundedly pressed for time that I could not possibly delay under any contingency that might arise; and your fair friends are, doubtless, not so eagerly determined upon travelling night and day till they reach Paris.