They complied and the picture, which was of a miniature size, was placed in the proper light. Miss Thompson gave it a single glance, and burst into an apparently irrepressible laugh. Mrs. Thompson, regarding her with much surprise, drew up her eyes, and stooped forward to examine it, and then, though she gave her daughter and the artist a deprecating look, she also turned away to conceal a smile. Wallis turned first to the picture, then to Sutton, and then to Cupidon, and made no effort to restrain his mirth, in which he was joined by the party of spectators who had accompanied him. Every one perceived that it was a correct likeness of Sutton in features, while the expression was strikingly that of the little poodle. The dandy himself could not fail to recognize it, and looked around him, pale with wrath and mortification, bestowing the fiercest of his looks on Miss Thompson. “You don’t tell me what you think of my performance, Mr. Sutton,” said Oakley, with much gravity. “I’ll not bear your insults, sir!” exclaimed Sutton at length; “I’ll not tolerate your libellous insolence!—what do you mean, sir?—what do you mean?” “Insults! I’ll leave it to this company if I have not succeeded admirably! it reflects you as a mirror!” “I’ll not put up with it! I’ll not pay you a cent; I’ll leave it on your hands, and we’ll see who’ll have the best of the joke!” “Do sir!” said the artist; “it will be then my property, and I can do what I please with it! I’ll put it up in some exhibition labelled with your name!” “Your station protects you sir!” he resumed; “if you were not beneath my vengeance, you should answer for this, but a gentleman can, with honor, only demand satisfaction of his equals,—therefore you are safe! Landlord,” he added with an assumption of dignified composure; “make out my bill; I’ll go instantly to the other house;—you must be taught that a gentleman cannot patronize an establishment where he is liable to be insulted by any scrub that frequents it!” and again looking daggers at Miss Thompson, who had not ceased laughing, he left the room. In truth, had it not been for the almost insupportable ridicule that accompanied it, Mr. Sutton would have rejoiced in the excuse to leave the house, from a discovery that he had just made. After dinner, while in quest of Miss Thompson, who was at that time in conversation with Oakley, he had strolled into the summer-house, and found a letter on the floor. It was without direction, and though closed, not sealed, and more through blindness than curiosity he opened it. To his dismay it commenced thus: