"Of what, Aunt?" said Aubrey, feeling about as unhappy as a mixture of humiliation and apprehension could make him. If they were to meet one of Lord Oxford's gentlemen, or one of his wealthy acquaintances, he felt as though he should want the earth to open and swallow him. "Suits, Gentleman," was the reply. "Blue and white the first; crimson and silver the second. Haven't seen the green and gold yet, nor the yellow, nor purple. Suppose they're in the wardrobe. Rather early times, to be thus bedizened, or seems so to working folks--the Abbey clock went eight but a few minutes since. But quality is donned early, I know." As Mistress Temperance emitted this tingling small-shot of words, she was marching with some rapidity up Old Palace Yard and the Abbey Close, her magnificent nephew keeping pace with her, right sore against his will. At last Aubrey could bear no longer. The windows of the Golden Fish were in sight, and his soul was perturbed by a vision of the fair Dorothy, who might be looking out, and whose eyes might light on the jewel of himself in this extremely incongruous setting of Aunt Temperance and the fish-tails. "Aunt Temperance, couldn't--" Aubrey's words did not come so readily as usual, that morning. "Couldn't I walk slower?" suggested the aggravating person who was the cause of his misery. "Well, belike I could.--There's Mrs Gertrude up at the window yonder--without 'tis Mrs Dorothy.--There's no hurry in especial, only I hate to waste time." And suiting the action to the word, Aunt Temperance checked her steps, so as to give the young lady, whether it were Gertrude or Dorothy, a more leisurely view of the fish-tails. "Couldn't Rachel go marketing instead of you?" sputtered out Aubrey. "Rachel has her own work; and so has Charity. And so have I, Mr Louvaine. I suppose you haven't, as you seem to be gallivanting about Westminster in crimson and silver at eight o'clock of a morning. Now then--" "Aunt, 'tis not my turn this morrow to wait on my Lord's _lever_. I shall be at his _coucher_ this even." "You may open the door, my master, if it demean not so fine a gentleman.--Good maid! Take my basket, Rachel. The fish for dinner, and the chicken for to-morrow." "There's nobut four whitings here, Mistress: shouldn't there be five?" "Hush thee, good maid. They're twopence apiece." "Eh, yo' never sen [say] so!" "Ay, but I do. Let be; I'll have a bit of green stuff, or something." And as Rachel, looking but half satisfied, went off with the basket, Temperance threw open the parlour door. "Madam, suffer me to announce the Duke of Damask, the Prince of Plush, the Viscount of Velvet, and the Baron of Bombast. Pray you, look not for four nobles; there is but one." "Aubrey!" was the response, in diverse tones, from the three ladies. The object of this attention did not look happy; but he walked in and offered due greeting to his relatives. Temperance sat down, untied her plain black hood, and laid it aside.