The two young ladies smiled at this—­the old lady said, “Hwat?”

“I like you, sir,” Lady Jane said, “for not being ashamed of your friends, whatever their rank of life may be.  Shall we have the pleasure of setting you down anywhere, Mr. Titmarsh?”

“Noways particular, my Lady,” says I.  “We have a holiday at our office to-day—­at least Roundhand gave me and Gus leave; and I shall be very happy, indeed, to take a drive in the Park, if it’s no offence.”

“I’m sure it will give us—­infinite pleasure,” said Lady Jane; though rather in a grave way.

“Oh, that it will!” says Lady Fanny, clapping her hands:  “won’t it, Grandmamma?  And after we have been in the Park, we can walk in Kensington Gardens, if Mr. Titmarsh will be good enough to accompany us.”

“Indeed, Fanny, we will do no such thing,” says Lady Jane.

“Indeed, but we will though!” shrieked out Lady Drum.  “Ain’t I dying to know everything about his uncle and thirteen aunts? and you’re all chattering so, you young women, that not a blessed syllable will you allow me or my young friend here to speak.”

Lady Jane gave a shrug with her shoulders, and did not say a single word more.  Lady Fanny, who was as gay as a young kitten (if I may be allowed so to speak of the aristocracy), laughed, and blushed, and giggled, and seemed quite to enjoy her sister’s ill-humour.  And the Countess began at once, and entered into the history of the thirteen Misses Hoggarty, which was not near finished when we entered the Park.

When there, you can’t think what hundreds of gents on horseback came to the carriage and talked to the ladies.  They had their joke for Lady Drum, who seemed to be a character in her way; their bow for Lady Jane; and, the young ones especially, their compliment for Lady Fanny.

Though she bowed and blushed, as a young lady should, Lady Fanny seemed to be thinking of something else; for she kept her head out of the carriage, looking eagerly among the horsemen, as if she expected to see somebody.  Aha! my Lady Fanny, I knew what it meant when a young pretty lady like you was absent, and on the look-out, and only half answered the questions put to her.  Let alone Sam Titmarsh—­he knows what Somebody means as well as another, I warrant.  As I saw these manoeuvres going on, I could not help just giving a wink to Lady Jane, as much as to say I knew what was what.  “I guess the young lady is looking for Somebody,” says I. It was then her turn to look queer, I assure you, and she blushed as red as scarlet; but, after a minute, the good-natured little thing looked at her sister, and both the young ladies put their handkerchiefs up to their faces, and began laughing—­laughing as if I had said the funniest thing in the world.

“Il est charmant, votre monsieur,” said Lady Jane to her grandmamma; and on which I bowed, and said, “Madame, vous me faites beaucoup d’honneur:”  for I know the French language, and was pleased to find that these good ladies had taken a liking to me.  “I’m a poor humble lad, ma’am, not used to London society, and do really feel it quite kind of you to take me by the hand so, and give me a drive in your fine carriage.”