"Wants five minutes," said Mr Buddy, nodding his head, and having to dart one hand up to save the hat, which came down over his nose, and would have continued its course to the floor. "I say, your old coachman must have had a head like a bull, to have worn that hat without stuffing. There, I'm off. Soon be back. I say, though," he whispered, thrusting back his head, and this time holding on by the rigging of the hat, "if it comes to a wedding, the old gals ought to stand some new togs." Within a quarter of an hour Mr Isaac Buddy, who had entered the private apartments as flyman, and came out the Honourable Misses Dymcox's coachman, was at the door with the transformed fly. The ladies were duly packed inside, with many tremors as to their dresses, and Joseph, also in a drab greatcoat and a fearful and wonderful hat--the twin-brother of that upon Mr Buddy's head--mounted to the seat. Then the carriage jingled and jangled off--a dashing brougham and pair, with flashing lights and the windows down, rattling by them, making Buddy's nervous nag shy to the near side, as if he meant to mount the side walk out of the way. "Rie," whispered Clotilde, with her ruddy lips touching her sister's ear. "Yes." "That funny little officer was inside." "Yes," muttered Marie to herself, "and the tall one as well; and you know it. I wonder who they are?" Volume 1, Chapter IX. THE SLAVE OF FORTUNE. "I say, look here! You know, Litton, I'm the last man on earth to complain; but you know, damn it, you don't do your duty by me." "You don't give me credit for what I do do, Elbraham, 'pon my soul you don't!" said the gentleman addressed--a rather fashionably-dressed, stylish young fellow of eight-and-twenty or thirty, whose hair was closely cropped in the latest style, his well-worn clothes scrupulously brushed, and his hands particularly white. As he answered he screwed his glass very tightly into his eyes and gazed at the first speaker--a little, pudgy, high-shouldered man, with a very short neck and a very round head, slightly bald. He was carefully dressed, and a marked point in his attire was the utter absence of everything in the shape of jewellery or ornament. His fat white hands did not display so much as a ring; and though a slight prominence in his vest proclaimed the presence of a watch, it was attached to his person by a guard of the finest black silk. His countenance, however, did not match with the refinement of his attire, for it betrayed high living and sensual indulgence. There was an unpleasant look, too, about his eyes; and if to the least cultured person he had asserted in the most emphatic manner that he was a gentleman, it would not have been believed.