OF THE LOVES OF MR. PERKINS AND MISS GORGON, AND OF THE TWO GREAT
FACTIONS IN THE TOWN OF OLDBOROUGH.

"My dear John," cried Lucy, with a very wise look indeed, "it must
and shall be so. As for Doughty Street, with our means, a house is
out of the question. We must keep three servants, and Aunt Biggs
says the taxes are one-and-twenty pounds a year."

"I have seen a sweet place at Chelsea," remarked John: "Paradise
Row, No. 17,--garden--greenhouse--fifty pounds a year--omnibus to
town within a mile."

"What! that I may be left alone all day, and you spend a fortune in
driving backward and forward in those horrid breakneck cabs? My
darling, I should die there--die of fright, I know I should. Did
you not say yourself that the road was not as yet lighted, and that
the place swarmed with public-houses and dreadful tipsy Irish
bricklayers? Would you kill me, John?"

"My da-arling," said John, with tremendous fondness, clutching Miss
Lucy suddenly round the waist, and rapping the hand of that young
person violently against his waistcoat,--"My da-arling, don't say
such things, even in a joke. If I objected to the chambers, it is
only because you, my love, with your birth and connections, ought to
have a house of your own. The chambers are quite large enough and
certainly quite good enough for me." And so, after some more sweet
parley on the part of these young people, it was agreed that they
should take up their abode, when married, in a part of the House