"It is not the inky cloak, Mr. Applebite," replied Mrs. Greatgirdle, "that truly indicates regret; but it's here," (laying her hand upon her left side): "no--there, under his liver wing, that he feels it, poor bird! It's a shocking thing to live alone." "And especially in such a large cage," said Mrs. Waddledot. "_Your house_ is rather large, Mr. Applebite?" inquired Mrs. Greatgirdle. "Rather, ma'am," replied Collumpsion. "Ain't you very lonely?" said Mrs. Waddledot and Mrs. Greatgirdle both in a breath. "Why, not--" "Very lively, you were going to say," interrupted Mrs. G. Now Mrs. G. was wrong in her conjecture of Collumpsion's reply. He was about to say, "Why, not at all;" but she, of course, knew best what he ought to have answered. "I often feel for you, Mr. Applebite," remarked Mrs. Waddledot; "and think how strange it is that you, who really are a nice young man--and I don't say so to flatter you--that you should have been so unsuccessful with the ladies." Collumpsion's vanity was awfully mortified at this idea. "It _is_ strange!" exclaimed Mrs. G "I wonder it don't make you miserable. There is no home, I mean the '_Sweet, sweet_ home,' without a wife. Try, try again, Mr. Applebite," (tapping his arm as she rose;) "faint heart never won fair lady." "I refused Mr. Waddledot three times, but I yielded at last; take courage from that, and 24, Pleasant Terrace, may shortly become that Elysium--a woman's home," whispered Mrs. W., as she rolled gracefully to a card-table; and accidentally, _of course_, cut the ace of spades, which she exhibited to Collumpsion with a very mysterious shake of the head. Agamemnon returned to 24, Pleasant Terrace, a discontented man. He felt that there was no one sitting up for him--nothing but a rush-light--the dog might bark as he entered, but no voice was there to welcome him, and with a heavy heart he ascended the two stone steps of his dwelling. He took out his latch-key, and was about to unlock the door, when a loud knocking was heard in the next street. Collumpsion paused, and then gave utterance to his feelings. "That's music--positively music. This is my house--there's my name on the brass-plate--that's my knocker, as I can prove by the bill and receipt; and, yet, here I am about to sneak in like a burglar. Old John sha'n't go to bed another night; I'll not indulge the lazy scoundrel any longer, Yet the poor old fellow nursed me when a child. I'll compromise the matter--I'll knock, and let myself in." So saying, Collumpsion thumped away at the door, looked around to see that he was unobserved, applied his latch-key, and slipped into his house just as old John, in a state of great alarm and undress, was descending the stairs with a candle and a boot-jack. * * * * * AN ACUTE ANGLE.