It also seemed at Orleigh this day that fish of three sorts were swimming about in three several ponds without association and amalgamation. Within the iron gates and rails were the red-fleshed salmon, by themselves, with interests in common, a common mode of speech, a common code of manner, and a common culture. Without the railings, yet within the park, were the common-place fish that understood and appreciated jokes which would have been insipid or vulgar to those within the railings, also with a common dialect, a peculiar twang and intonation of voice, and a common style of thought and cultural tone. Further away, outside the park gates and enclosure were fish of another quality altogether, the homely trout—the village rustics, the miners out of work—also with their peculiar modes of thought, their dialect, their prejudices, and their quality of humour, distinct from the rest and special to themselves. How would one of the town fish have felt, had he been admitted within the gates? How one of the rustics, if associated with the shop-folk? Each would have been uneasy, gasping, and glad to get back from such uncongenial society into his proper pond once more. When the last of the guests had arrived, Lord and Lady Lamerton left their reception post, and mixed with the company. The lookers-on outside the railings did not at once disperse. A policeman and a couple of keepers were on guard. The gates were closed, but the people insisted on peering through the bars and between the rails at the well-dressed gentle class within, and others scrambled up on the dwarf wall to obtain a better view, and were ordered down by the policeman only to reascend to the vantage point when his back was turned. “I ain’t doing nothing,” remonstrated one of those required to descend, “a cat may look at a king, and I want to see Lord Lamerton.” “Come down at once.” “But I came here o’ purpose.” “You can see the park and the pictures.” “Oh, blow the park and pictures. I didn’t pay two-and-eight return to see them. I came here to see his lordship. So, Mr. Bobby, take him my card and compliments. I’m in the Bespoke Department at Messrs. Skewés.” “You cannot see him. Come down at once.” “But I must and will see the nobleman who has been so wicked, and has caused such wretchedness, who has tore down widows’ houses, and crushed the ’eads of orphans.” Then another man offered a cigar to one of the keepers. “Look here, old man,” he said. “Point his lordship out to me. I want to have a squint at him—a regular Judge Jeffries he is.” “Talk of Bulgarian atrocities,” said another. “They’re a song to these at Orleigh. Down with the House of Lords, says I, and let us have the enfranchisement of the soil.” “It is all primogeniture does it,” said a third, “there never ought to be no first-borns.” In the innermost pond, meanwhile, the guests were swimming about and consorting. Mrs. Cribbage bore down on Lady Lamerton.