Then our friends arrived.

Dolly and I, who had all the while been benevolently wishing Wortleby
would go, and trying to help him off, now selfishly hoped he would
remain and share our entertainment--and our Uncle Popworth.

"I ought to have gone two hours ago," he said, with a plaintive smile,
in reply to our invitation; "but, really, I am feeling the need of a
cup of tea" (and no wonder!) "and I think I will stay."

We cruelly wished that he might continue to engage my uncle in
conversation; but that would have been too much to hope from the sublime
endurance of a martyr,--if ever there was one more patient than he.
Seeing the Lintons and the Greggs arrive, he craftily awaited his
opportunity, and slipped off, to give them a turn on the gridiron. First
Linton was secured; and you should have seen him roll his mute,
appealing orbs, as he settled helplessly down under the infliction.
Suddenly he made a dash. "I am ignorant of these matters," said he; "but
Gregg understands them;--Gregg will talk with you." But Gregg took
refuge behind the ladies. The ladies receiving a hint from poor
distressed Dolly, scattered. But no artifice availed against the
dreadful man. Piazza, parlor, garden,--he ranged everywhere, and was
sure to seize a victim.

At last tea was ready, and we all went in. The Lintons and Greggs are
people of the world, who would hardly have cared to wait for a blessing
on such lovely heaps of strawberries and mugs of cream as they saw
before them; but, there being two clergymen at the table, the ceremony
was evidently expected. We were placidly seated; there was a hush,
agreeably filled with the fragrance of the delicious fruit: even my