"Th'umbrella."

"Mr. BUMSTEAD," returned the old man, coldly, "I am not talking of an
umbrella, but of Mr. EDWIN."

"Yesh, I know," said the uncle. "Awright. I'm li'lle sleepy; tha'sall."

"I've just seen my ward, Mr. BUMSTEAD."

"'She puerwell, shir?"

"She is _not_ pretty well. Nor is Miss PENDRAGON."

"I'm vahr' sorry," said Mr. BUMSTEAD, just audibly.

"Miss PENDRAGON scorns the thought of any blame for her brother,"
continued Mr. DIBBLE, eyeing the fire.

"It had a bun-bone handle," muttered the other, dreamily. Then, with a
momentary brightening--"'scuse me, shir: whah'll y'take?"

"Nothing, sir!" was the sharp response. "I'm not at all thirsty. But
there is something more to tell you. At the last meeting of my ward and
your nephew--just before your dinner here,--they concluded to break
their engagement of marriage, for certain good reasons, and thenceforth
be only brother and sister to each other."

Starting forward in his chair, with partially opened eyes, the
white-washed and dingy Mr. BUMSTEAD managed to get off his hat, covering