"O, I hear a great deal about his way of
going on, every day when I am at home," was
the reply.

"And where is your home?" he
inquired. "I hope it is not entirely out of
the world."

"A long way off," said Blue-ribbons, "and
so far from what you call the world, that
you could scarcely find it even if you
tried.

"I should like very much to make the
attempt," he said; and here the scene of the
morning recurred to him. "But you spoke,"
—he stuttered a little—"you spoke—some
letters you mentioned—and asked if I knew
him. I suppose HE has no difficulty in finding
his way," he concluded, with a tone in
which a little bitterness might have been
detected.

"Really, Mr. Blanders!"  the young lady
began.

"My name is not Blanders, Miss Dalwood,"
he interrupted her pretty sharply.

"My name is not Dalwood," replied Blue-ribbons.

"Then, what in heaven name is it?"

"I'm Katy Herbert, of Barcombe. My
father is rector of the parish."

"And I'm Vincent Willis, of Barcombe
Leas."

While these communications were having
their effect, Miss Lavinia entered the room,
radiant with gratified spite. She held in her
hand a brown-paper parcel, tied with a blue
ribbon; the same in fact which had made
such an impression on Vincent in the morning.

"See what one of the robbers had concealed
upon him," she said; and was proceeding to
open it, but Mary stept forward.

"Stop aunt," she said, "that packet
belongs to me, and I will give it myself into my
father's hands. I have kept this matter
concealed from him too long, and I can't let
Katy, who was only my messenger to the post-
office, and helped me to conceal this parcel
from your malicious researches, suffer any
blame on my account."

At this moment Mr. Dalwood himself
came into the room. There was a twinkle in
his eye, as if he had transcended Justice
Shallow in the administration of the law.

"What have you done with the robbers?"
inquired Miss Lavinia.

"I've asked them to supper, sister. We
shall have a merry company—elegant
extracts from the Newgate Calendar; for, as
you already make out our two visitors
to be no better than they should be, you
won't object to a couple of house-breakers
being invited to make up the set. But first
of all,'' he said, turning to Samuel, "let me
ask you a few questions, Mr. Blanders. You
know a gentleman of the name of Arthur
Welland, and what do you think of him?"

"I know him very well," replied Mr.
Blanders, " and never could teach him the
double-shuffle. But he's such a tremendous
ass, he's sure to get on."

"What do you mean by an ass?" inquired
the father, with a loud laugh, as he looked at
his daughter's angry frown.

"Why, careful, steady, learned, clever,
sensible, industrious. I'm certain an ass of
that magnitude will be governor of the Bank
of England some day. He has written a book
about cotton, or cheese, or some other foreign
mineral, and his stupid old uncle Jones, the
stockbroker, will disinherit him. But he's
not such a fool as he seems. He's got into
a correspondence with some silly girl in the
country—a real old fogie's daughter, I be-
lieve,—so he'll come all right, yet. He'll
never do for the tight-rope, so I advise him
to marry her at once."

"You can give him the same advice now,"
said Mr. Dalwood, enjoying the confusion of
Mary and the laughter of the rest amazingly,
"for here he is, with the stupid old stock-
broker his uncle. Come in Welland; come
in Jones."

IV.

IT was a supper party of the most amazing
mirth. It came out in the course of it, that
Mr. Jones, so far from disliking Arthur
Welland for writing a book about cotton, had
placed it in his library some time before he
knew who was the author, and was now the
proudest of men, as the Home Secretary had
written a note that very morning expressing
the highest approbation of his nephew's
labours, and inquiring if the animals from
which cotton was shorn would bear
transplantation to the British Isles. Mr. Jones
farther explained, that on hearing that Arthur
was imperatively required to go down to
Rickstone to receive a certain packet placed
under a certain tree, by a certain young lady,
at the request of a certain other young lady,
he had determined to accompany him, and use
his interest with his old friend Dalwood to
pardon the young people; and in spite of
being seized on suspicion of housebreaking,
and being ferociously attacked with most
uncomplimentary epithets by Miss Lavinia
and others, he declared when his health was
drunk with all the honours, that it was the
happiest hour of his life, and he drank all
theirs in return.

It certainly was the happiest hour in the
life of Mr. Blanders; for on questioning his
nephew whether he was pleased with the
result of his endeavours, he received a renewal
of the promise of a thousand pounds.
Whether it was the happiest hour of Mr.
Willis's life remains to be seen; for, after
daily visits to Rickstone for some time, and
an animated correspondence on parochial
affairs with Mr. Herbert, he acted as guard to
Blue-ribbons on her return to Devonshire.
He has quitted his rooms in the Albany, and
is at this moment busily superintending the
building of a beautiful house on Barcombe