But, I knew now who had really got the handkerchief thrown by the Sultan of Downing Street; while Lizzie Dangler was yet free to bless some more sagacious swain. So, also, was lisping, little, flaxen-haired Baby Blake, whom I had believed much more likely to capture Horner than the Seraph, as she was always chaffing him and making light of his attentions. However, girls are so deceptive, that, unless you are let into the secret, you can never find out the happy individuals whom they really favour. We men folk, on the contrary, soon contrive to exhibit the state of our feelings to unsympathising outsiders, who laugh at us and deride us thereanent! We are "creatures of impulse:"--they, the most barefaced little dissimulators possible! Fancy, Horner being married, though! "Bai-ey Je-ove!" It would be, to me, well-nigh incredible! Fancy his "popping the question" to Seraphine--who, I'm positive, must have giggled in his face when that interesting operation was gone through; and, then, his subsequent interview with Lady Dasher, who probably detailed for his instruction, how her "poor dear papa" had acted on a similar memorable occasion! I should only like to learn how many times his eye-glass was really appealed to, to help him out of a sentence; and, how frequently he said "Ba-iey Je-ove!" before the whole thing was arranged and his mind set at ease! The marriage was to take place very soon--really, all of our acquaintances were getting married, and having their courses of true love to run smoothly for them, unlike Min and I! After the ceremony was over between these twain, I was told that Lady Dasher--who, now that her two daughters would be "off her hands," no longer had any necessity to keep up a separate establishment--was to move from The Terrace, with her fuchsias and other belongings, and take up her residence for the future with her first son-in-law, Mr Mawley; the curate being now ensconced in that villa, whose furnishing by old Shuffler, lang syne, had caused me so much jealousy and grief! Ah! This _was_ news. I chuckled immensely over the idea of the relict of the gin distiller settling down like a wet blanket on the connubial couch of the curate! Whenever the ghost of "poor dear papa," in a reminiscential form, was made to walk the earth again, I would be avenged for all the quips and jibes which Mawley had formerly selected me to receive! He would meet with an antagonist now, worthy of his carping, critical metal! I wished him joy of the situation! Mawley and Lady Dasher together in one house, permanently! I say no more.