course,” said Candituft, as the best thing he could say. “But, my dear sir—here he is—introduce me.”

At this moment, Jericho, between his wife and eldest daughter, marched slowly up.

“Mr. Jericho, Mr. Candituft—the Hon. Mr. Candituft,” said Carraways: and, turning from the newly-known brethren, the host took Mrs. Jericho and Monica under his charge.

“You’ll find us somewhere, Jericho,” said the wife. “We must join dear Mrs. Carraways.”

“And sweet Bessy,” cried the emphatic Monica.

“Really, Mrs. Jericho, I should like to see your husband look somewhat stouter. Isn’t he a—a little thin?” asked Carraways.

“Oh, dear, no! not at all,” answered Mrs. Jericho, quite eagerly. “By no means.”

“Papa, you know, was always thin,” said Miss Pennibacker,[Pg 63] so very confidently, that Carraways felt he ought to be mistaken. It was clear—Jericho was always thin. “Well, well, it’s my blunder; yet, I thought, perhaps, the shock of sudden property. By the way, I’m glad to hear such wonders of the mines.”

[Pg 63]

“Very kind of you, dear Mr. Carraways. But”—added Mrs. Jericho, philosophically and sonorously—“after all, what is money? Money cannot bestow happiness.”

“Why, perhaps not,” said the merchant host; “nevertheless, it often supplies a good imitation of the article. Come, come, you mustn’t abuse money, Mrs. Jericho. That’s the rightful privilege of people who can’t get it.”

“Dear Mrs. Carraways! Well, this is lovely! Quite oriental! Superb!” cried Mrs. Jericho, with deepening emphasis greeting the lady of the place. “I vow, it takes one quite back to the Persian poets.”

“Very good company, no doubt,” said Carraways, laughing; “but, after all, I rather prefer this to any gardens on foolscap. Better company, too”—and the old gentleman bent gallantly to Mrs. Jericho and Monica—“much better company than the best of people, made of the best of ink. My dear,” said Carraways to his wife, “where’s Bessy?”

“Oh yes! Where is dear Bessy?” cried Monica, with tremulous anxiety. Mrs. Carraways nodded towards a party of dancers, where was Bessy Carraways—a girl, whose best beauty was the open goodness of her face—dancing with Sir Arthur Hodmadod; Miss Candituft apart smiling—as the Spartan young gentleman smiled with the fox 

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