While Mr Handycock was rubbing his boots on the mat, I went upstairs, rather mortified, I must own, as my father had told me that Mr Handycock was his stock-broker, and would do all he could to make me comfortable. When I returned to the parlour, Mrs Handycock whispered to me, "Never mind, my dear, it's only because there's something wrong on 'Change. Mr Handycock is a _bear_ just now." I thought so too, but made no answer, for Mr Handycock came upstairs. "Are you ready for your dinner, my dear?" said the lady, almost trembling. "If the dinner is ready for me. I believe we usually dine at four," answered her husband gruffly. "Jemima, Jemima, dish up! do you hear, Jemima?" "Yes, marm," replied the cook, "directly I've thickened the butter;" and Mrs Handycock resumed her seat, with: "Well, Mr Simple, and how is your grandfather, Lord Privilege?" "He is quite well, ma'am," answered I, for the fifteenth time at least. But dinner put an end to the silence which followed this remark. Mr Handycock walked downstairs, leaving his wife and me to follow at our leisure. "Pray, ma'am," inquired I, as soon as he was out of hearing, "what is the matter with Mr Handycock, that he is so cross to you?" "Vy, my dear, it is one of the misfortunes of matermony, that ven the husband's put out, the vife is sure to have her share of it." "Are you people coming down to dinner?" roared Mr Handycock from below. "Yes, my dear," replied the lady; "I thought that you were washing your hands." We descended into the dining-room, where we found that Mr Handycock had already devoured two of the whitings, leaving only one on the dish for his wife and me. "Vould you like a little bit of viting, my dear?" said the lady to me. "It's not worth halving," observed the gentleman, in a surly tone, taking up the fish with his own knife and fork, and putting it on his plate. "Well, I'm so glad you like them, my dear," replied the lady meekly; then turning to me, "there's some nice roast _weal_ coming, my dear." The veal made its appearance, and fortunately for us Mr Handycock could not devour it all. He took the lion's share, nevertheless, cutting off all the brown, and then shoving the dish over to his wife to help herself and me. After dinner, Mr Handycock went down to the cellar for a bottle of wine. "O deary me!" exclaimed his wife, "he must have lost a mint of money--we had better go upstairs and leave him alone; he'll be better after a bottle of port, perhaps." I was very glad to go away, and being very tired, I went to bed without any tea, for Mrs Handycock dared not venture to make it before her husband came upstairs. CHAPTER TWO. FITTING OUT ON THE SHORTEST NOTICE--FORTUNATELY FOR ME THIS DAY MR. HANDYCOCK IS NOT A BEAR, AND I FARE VERY WELL--I SET OFF FOR PORTSMOUTH--BEHIND THE COACH I MEET A MAN BEFORE THE MAST--HE IS DISGUISED WITH LIQUOR, BUT IS NOT THE ONLY DISGUISE I FALL IN WITH IN MY JOURNEY.