CHAPTER XIV.
AT HER GATES.
Mr.Bell was as thin as his wife was fat, and as quiet and unassuming as she was bumptious and talkative.

On the occasion of this memorable supper he very nearly drove his better half into fits by his utter want of observation.
"It's that that worries me in Bell," the good woman was often heard to say.

"When a thing is as plain as the nose on his face he won't see it.
And not all my hints will make him see it.

Hints!--You might hint forever to Bell, and he wouldn't know what you were driving at." These remarks Mrs.Bell had made, times without number, concerning her spouse, but never had ehe more cause to give utterance to them than on the present occasion.

For just when the whole party were seated at supper, and she by the boldest manoeuvres had placed Captain Bertram next to herself by the coffee-tray, and had planted Matty at his other side, so that he was in a measure hemmed in, and if he did not talk to Matty had no one to fall back on but herself, who, of course, would quickly, using the metaphor of battledore and shuttlecock, toss him back to her daughter--having arranged all this, what should Bell do but put his foot in it?
"Captain Bertram," he called in his thin voice across the table, "I hope you enjoyed your row, and I'm proud to see you at my humble board.