Eleven leaves in the Twemlow; fourteen in company all told.

Four pigeon-breasted retainers in plain clothes stand in line in the hall.

A fifth retainer, proceeding up the staircase with a mournful air--as who should say, 'Here is another wretched creature come to dinner; such is life!'-- announces, 'Mis-ter Twemlow!' Mrs Veneering welcomes her sweet Mr Twemlow.

Mr Veneering welcomes his dear Twemlow.

Mrs Veneering does not expect that Mr Twemlow can in nature care much for such insipid things as babies, but so old a friend must please to look at baby.