thought you'd forgotten us. How are you?" cried Wilford.

"How are you, Wil? how do you do, Mrs. Wilford ?-how's baby?"

"Now, Vi, let's have dinner. I think Martin's hungry, and I know I

am."

Wilford Hadfield and his wife were residing on Mr. Phillimore's first floor. They were called Mr. and Mrs. Wilford.

"What a mistake!" quoth the picture dealer. "What injustice I've done the riposa. I feel that the Raphael would be very angry if she knew, while the Velasquez would turn to a Spagnoletto in expression! I should like to be of use to them. They're a charming group. But I've made a wrong start. I think I must put on another cravat, my emotion has crumpled this; and perhaps

have just a glass or two of port, to steady my nerves; perhaps go half-price to the play, to amuse myself. For there'll be a tremendous reaction after all this excitement!"

END OF VOL. I.

R. GARDNER, PRINTER, GLOUCESTER STREET, REGENT'S PARK.