“Poor devil,” so continued Mr. Scully's meditations, “it is almost too bad to do him out of his place; but my Bob wants it, and John's girl has, I hear, seven thousand pounds. His uncle will get him another place before all that money is spent.” And herewith Mr. Scully began conning the speech which Perkins had made for him. He had not read it more than six times,--in truth, he was getting it by heart,--when his head clerk came to him from the front room, bearing a card: a footman had brought it, who said his lady was waiting below. Lady Gorgon's name was on the card! To seize his hat and rush downstairs was, with Mr. Scully, the work of an infinitesimal portion of time. It was indeed Lady Gorgon in her Gorgonian chariot. “Mr. Scully,” said she, popping her head out of window and smiling in a most engaging way, “I want to speak to you, on something very particular INDEED”--and she held him out her hand. Scully pressed it most tenderly: he hoped all heads in Bedford Row were at the windows to see him. “I can't ask you into the carriage, for you see the governess is with me, and I want to talk secrets to you.” “Shall I go and make a little promenade?” said mademoiselle, innocently. And her mistress hated her for that speech. “No. Mr. Scully, I am sure, will let me come in for five minutes?” Mr. Scully was only too happy. My Lady descended and walked upstairs, leaning on the happy solicitor's arm. But how should he manage? The front room was consecrated to clerks; there were clerks too, as ill-luck would have it, in his private room. “Perkins is out for the day,” thought Scully; “I will take her into his room.” And into Perkins's room he took her--ay, and he shut the double doors after him too, and trembled as he thought of his own happiness. “What a charming little study,” said Lady Gorgon, seating herself. And indeed it was very pretty: for Perkins had furnished it beautifully, and laid out a neat tray with cakes, a cold fowl, and sherry, to entertain his party withal. “And do you bachelors always live so well?” continued she, pointing to the little cold collation. Mr. Scully looked rather blank when he saw it, and a dreadful suspicion crossed his soul; but there was no need to trouble Lady Gorgon with explanations: therefore, at once, and with much presence of mind, he asked her to partake of his bachelor's fare (she would refuse Mr. Scully nothing that day). A pretty sight would it have been for young Perkins to see strangers so unceremoniously devouring his feast. She drank--Mr. Scully drank--and so emboldened was he by the draught that he actually seated himself by the side of Lady Gorgon, on John Perkins's new sofa.