As she was making tea for the ladies (for in that house they took a cup regular before bedtime), "Well, my lady," says she, "who do you think has been to drink tea with me ?" Poar thing, a frendly face was a event in her life--a tea-party quite a hera! "Why, perhaps, Lenoir my maid," says my lady, looking grave.

"I wish, Miss Kicksey, you would not demean yourself by mixing with my domestics.
Recollect, madam, that you are sister to Lady Griffin." "No, my lady, it was not Lenoir; it was a gentleman, and a handsome gentleman, too." "Oh, it was Monsieur de l'Orge, then," says Miss; "he promised to bring me some guitar-strings." "No, nor yet M.de l'Orge.

He came, but was not so polite as to ask for me.

What do you think of your own beau, the Honorable Mr.Algernon Deuceace;" and, so saying, poar Kicksey clapped her hands together, and looked as joyfle as if she'd come in to a fortin.
"Mr.Deuceace here; and why, pray ?" says my lady, who recklected all that his exlent pa had been saying to her.
"Why, in the first place, he had left his pocket-book, and in the second, he wanted, he said, a dish of my nice tea; which he took, and stayed with me an hour, or moar." "And pray, Miss Kicksey," said Miss Matilda, quite contempshusly, "what may have been the subject of your conversation with Mr.Algernon?
Did you talk politics, or music, or fine arts, or metaphysics ?" Miss M.
being what was called a blue (as most hump-backed women in sosiaty are), always made a pint to speak on these grand subjects.
"No, indeed; he talked of no such awful matters.

If he had, you know, Matilda, I should never have understood him.