"I'm not ungrateful, mamma," said Potsey. "I shall be very much obliged when I get my three hundred and fifty pounds. How long will it be?" "You've got to find the young man first, Potsey. I don't think you'll ever do that," said Georgina, who was rather proud of her own good looks. This took place on the evening of the day on which Mrs. Carroll had gone to London, where Mr. Carroll was about attending to some of those duties of conviviality in the performance of which he was so indefatigable. On the following morning at twelve o'clock he was still in bed. It was a well-known fact in the family that on such an occasion he would lie in bed, and that before twelve o'clock he would have managed to extract from his wife's little hoardings at any rate two bottles of soda-water and two glasses of some alcoholic mixture which was generally called brandy. "I'll have a gin-and-potash, Sophie," he had said on this occasion, with reference to the second dose, "and do make haste. I wish you'd go yourself, because that girl always drinks some of the sperrits." "What! go to the gin-shop?" "It's a most respectable publican's,--just round the corner." "Indeed, I shall do nothing of the kind. You've no feeling about your daughters at all!" But Sophie went on her errand, and in order to protect her father's small modicum of "sperrits" she slipped on her cloak and walked out so as to be able to watch the girl. Still, I think that the maiden managed to get a sip as she left the bar. The father, in the mean-time with his head between his hands, was ruminating on the "cocked-up way which girls have who can't do a turn for their father." But with the gin-and-potash, and with Sophie, Mr. Juniper made his appearance. He was a well-featured, tall man, but he looked the stable and he smelled of it. His clothes, no doubt, were decent, but they were made by some tailor who must surely work for horsey men and no others. There is a class of men who always choose to show by their outward appearance that they belong to horses, and they succeed. Mr. Juniper was one of them. Though good-looking he was anything but young, verging by appearance on fifty years. "So he has been at it again, Miss Sophie," said Juniper. Sophie, who did not like being detected in the performance of her filial duties, led the way in silence into the house, and disappeared up-stairs with the gin-and-potash. Mr. Juniper turned into the parlor, where was Mrs. Carroll with the other girls. She was still angry, as angry as she could be, with her husband, who on being informed that morning of what his wife had done had called her brother "a beastly, stingy old beau," because he had cut Amelia off with four hundred and fifty instead of five hundred pounds. Mr. Carroll probably knew that Mr. Juniper would not take his daughter without the entirety of the sum stipulated, and would allow no portion of it to be expended on wedding-dresses.