Mr. and Mrs. Rocket Larkspur, of Ninian Green, were also successfully angled for and caught; indeed, Mrs. Larkspur would have been much disappointed if they had not been invited, for she had heard of Billy’s elegant appearance from her maid, and being an aspiring lady, had a great desire to cultivate an acquaintance with high life, in which Billy evidently moved. Rocket was a good slow sort of gentleman-farmer, quite a contrast to his fast wife, who was all fire, bustle, and animation, wanting to manage everybody’s house and affairs for them. He had married her, it was supposed, out of sheer submission, because she had made a dead set at him, and would not apparently be said “nay” to. It is a difficult thing to manouvre a determined woman in the country, where your habits are known, and they can assail you at all points—church, streets, fields, roads, lanes, all are open to them; or they can even get into your house under plea of a charity subscription, if needs be. Mrs. and Miss Dotherington, of Goney Garth, were invited to do the Morning Post department, and because there was no fear of Miss Dotherington, who was “very amiable,” interfering with our Billy. Mrs. Dotherington’s other _forte_, besides propagating parties, consisted in angling for legacies, and she was continually on the trot looking after or killing people from whom she had, or fancied she had, expectations. “I’ve just been to see poor Mrs. Snuff,” she would say, drawing a long face; “she’s looking _wretchedly_ ill, poor thing; fear she’s not long for this world;” or, with a grin, “I suppose you’ve heard old Mr. Wheezington has had another attack in the night, which nearly carried him off.” Nothing pleased her so much as being told that any one from whom she had expectations was on the wane. She could ill conceal her satisfaction.