I know what is due, not to your old partner, but to the great Mr.Stacy, the financier, and I know what is due FROM HIM TO US! No! We dine in the great dining-room, publicly, and, if possible, at the very next table to those stuck-up Peterburys and their Eastern friends, including that horrid woman, which, I'm sure, ought to satisfy you.

Then you can talk as much as you like, and as loud as you like, about old times,--and the louder and the more the better,--but I don't think HE'LL like it." "But the baby!" expostulated Barker.

"Stacy's just wild to see him--and we can't bring him down to the table--though we MIGHT," he added, momentarily brightening.
"After dinner," said Mrs.Barker severely, "we will walk through the big drawing-rooms, and THEN Mr.Stacy may come upstairs and see him in his crib; but not before.

And now, George, I do wish that to-night, FOR ONCE, you would not wear a turn-down collar, and that you would go to the barber's and have him cut your hair and smooth out the curls.

And, for Heaven's sake! let him put some wax or gum or SOMETHING on your mustache and twist it up on your cheek like Captain Heath's, for it positively droops over your mouth like a girl's ringlet.