half-boots, and a drab gown with tulips and other large exotics
painted on it--when, in a word, Mrs. Crump and her daughter bounced
into the room.

"Here we are, Mr. E," cries Mrs. Crump, in a gay folatre
confidential air. "But law! there's a gent in the room!"

"Don't mind me, ladies," said the gent alluded to, in his
fascinating way. "I'm a friend of Eglantine's; ain't I, Egg? a chip
of the old block, hay?"

"THAT you are," said the perfumer, starting up.

"An 'air-dresser?" asked Mrs. Crump. "Well, I thought he was;
there's something, Mr. E., in gentlemen of your profession so
exceeding, so uncommon distangy."

"Madam, you do me proud," replied the gentleman so complimented,
with great presence of mind. "Will you allow me to try my skill
upon you, or upon Miss, your lovely daughter? I'm not so clever as
Eglantine, but no bad hand, I assure you."

"Nonsense, Captain," interrupted the perfumer, who was uncomfortable
somehow at the rencontre between the Captain and the object of his
affection. "HE'S not in the profession, Mrs. C. This is my friend
Captain Walker, and proud I am to call him my friend." And then
aside to Mrs. C., "One of the first swells on town, ma'am--a regular
tiptopper."

Humouring the mistake which Mrs. Crump had just made, Mr. Walker