"Kissing," said Tom. "It's done this way," and he imprinted half a dozen more kisses upon Tryphie's frightened little face before she struggled from him, and ran out by another door. "Have the goodness, sir, to ring that bell," said her ladyship, laying her hand upon her side, and tottering to an easy-chair. "I cannot talk to you about your conduct now--your wickedness--your riot and debauchery--my mind is too full of what is about to take place; but as you are going away to-day, I must tell you that you can return here no more until Tryphie is married. I will not have her head filled full of wicked nonsense by so unprincipled a young man." "Yes, I am a very bad one, mother," said Tom, quietly; "but don't make yourself uncomfortable. I am not going away." "Not going away?" shrieked her ladyship. "Ah, who is that?" she continued, without turning her head. "Robbins, my lady." "Oh, Robbins, send Justine to me." "Yes, my lady," said the butler, retiring. "I'm going to stop and see Maude turned off, if old Wilters don't have a paralytic stroke on his way to church." "Tom!" "Well, it's likely enough. He's only about forty, but he has lived twice as fast as most fellows ever since he was fifteen, so that he's quite sixty-five." "I will not listen to your insults, sir. As your mother, I should at least be spared." "Oh, ah, of course," said Tom, "duty to grey hairs and that sort of thing--Beg pardon though; I see they are not grey. I'm going to stop it all out now, and I shan't go--and what's more, mamma," he cried, nursing one of his little patent leather shoes as he lolled back, "if you are cantankerous, hang me if I don't contrive that the governor has the full run of the wine at the wedding breakfast, there." "If you dare, Tom!" cried her ladyship. "Oh, Justine, my drops." "Yes, milady," said that damsel. "Ah! bold, bad lil man," she added to herself, as she glanced at Tom, who very rudely winked at her when she closed the door after Lord Barmouth, who crept in and went timidly to an easy-chair. "Your drops!" said Tom. "Ha--ha--ha! why don't you take a liqueur of brandy like a woman, and not drink that stuff." "Tom," said her ladyship, "you are too coarse. You will break my heart before you have done. Only to think of your conduct," she cried, glancing at the chair in the farther room, where Lord Barmouth lay apparently asleep, as being his safest course when there was trouble on the way, "that too of your dozy, dilatory father, when one of you might make a position in Parliament, the other a most brilliant match." "Why, you don't want the old man to take another wife, do you?" said Tom. "I say, dad! Here, I say: wake up." "Silence, sir, how dare you!" exclaimed his mother. "You wicked, offensive boy. I was, for your benefit, trying to point out to you how you might gain for yourself a first-rate establishment, when you interrupted me with your ribald jests."