"Oh! my dear Titmouse," anxiously interrupted Tag-rag, inwardly cursing his wife, who, finding she always went wrong in her husband's eyes whenever she spoke a word, determined for the future to stick to her negus--"The fact is, there's a Mr. Horror here that's for sending all decent people to----. He's filled my wife there with all sorts of---- nay, if she isn't bursting with cant--so never mind her! _You_ done anything wrong! I _will_ say this for you--you always was a pattern of modesty and propriety--your hand, my dear Titmouse!" "Well--I'm a happy man again," resumed Titmouse, resolved now to go on with his adventure. "And when did they tell you of it, sir?" "Oh, a few days ago--a week ago," replied Tag-rag, trying to recollect. "Why--why--sir--a'n't you mistaken?" inquired Titmouse, with a depressed, but at the same time a surprised air. "It only happened this morning, after you left"---- "Eh?--eh?--ah, ha!--What _do_ you mean, Mr. Titmouse?" interrupted Tag-rag, with a faint attempt at a smile. Mrs. Tag-rag and Miss Tag-rag also turned exceedingly startled faces towards Titmouse, who felt as if a house were going to fall down on him. "Why, sir," he began to cry, (an attempt which was greatly aided by the maudlin condition to which drink had reduced him,) "till to-day, I thought I was heir to ten thousand a-year, and it seems I'm not; it's all a mistake of those cursed people at Saffron Hill!" Tag-rag's face changed visibly, and showed the desperate shock he had just sustained. His inward agony was forcing out on his slanting forehead a dew of perspiration. "What--a--capital--joke--Mr.--Titmouse--ah, ha!"--he gasped, hastily passing his handkerchief over his forehead. Titmouse, though greatly alarmed, stood to his gun pretty steadily. "I--I wish it was a joke! It's been no joke to _me_, sir. There's another Tittlebat Titmouse, it seems, in Shoreditch, that's the right"---- "Who told you this, sir? Pho, I don't--I can't believe it," said Tag-rag, in a voice tremulous between suppressed rage and fear. "Too true, though, 'pon my life! It _is_, so help me----!" in the most earnest and solemn manner. "How dare you swear before ladies, sir? You're insulting them, sir!" cried Tag-rag, trembling with rage. "And in _my_ presence, too, sir? You're not a gentleman!" He suddenly dropped his voice, and in a trembling and almost beseeching manner, asked Titmouse whether he was really joking or serious. "Never more serious in my life, sir; and enough to make me so, sir!" replied Titmouse, in a lamentable manner. "You really mean, then, to tell me it's all a mistake, then--and that you're no more than what you always were?" inquired Tag-rag, with a desperate attempt to speak calmly. "Oh yes, sir! Yes!" cried Titmouse, mournfully; "and if you'll only be so kind as to let me serve you as I used--I'll serve you faithfully! You know it was no fault of _mine_, sir! They _would_ tell me it was so!"