were coming. I met Percy next, sauntering about, with a huge cigar in
his mouth.

"The Bloomfields are coming to dinner, Mr. Percy," I said.

"Who are they?"

"The schoolmaster and his wife."

"Just like that precious old uncle of mine! Why the deuce did he ask
_me_ this Christmas? I tell you what, Mr. Smith--I can't stand
it. There's nothing, not even cards, to amuse a fellow. And when my
mother comes, it will be ten times worse. I'll cut and run for it."

"Oh! no, you won't," I said. But I heartily wished he would. I confess
the insincerity, and am sorry for it.

"But what the devil does my mother want, coming here?"

"I haven't the pleasure of knowing your mother, so I cannot tell what
the devil she can want, coming here."

"Humph!"

He walked away.



Chapter III.