"'Ah!' said Bagswash, 'I am glad o' that, in spite of your pun. Run up, Stephens, and tell them to get luncheon as soon as possible. Mr. Daly, a friend of Sir Marmaduke Wrigglesworth, is coming to join our family party.'" "Well, Daly," said I, "there your presence of mind served you well." "Hear the sequel," said Daly. "Encouraged by the acquiescence of Bagswash, as I was yesterday by the invitation of Dod, I proceeded towards the house, placing, ever and anon, my hand on the neck of his cob, or the pommel of the saddle, in order to mark to the distant group the familiar nature of our acquaintance; and in this fashion we reached the mansion, upon the steps of which a bevy of graces, in number more like the Muses, welcomed us. I _had_ a reputation even then, and the moment the girls had heard who was coming, they made up their minds to mirth--even the big Mrs. Bagswash rolled herself into the hall, like a fillet of veal upon castors, to do me honour. "Bating the parents," continued Daly, "I never saw a more prepossessing family. I forget all their names; but one was slim and sylph-like, another plump and pleasant, a third a wicked-looking brunette, a fourth a demure and bashful blonde: all I felt as I entered the house was, that if I had brought eight friends with me, I might, by giving each his choice, have had some one of the 'tuneful nine' left entirely to myself." "And," said I, "were you the only man?" "No," replied Daly, "there were two yahoos, in white cord breeches and leather gaiters, and a boy with a frill and a frock, upon which a favourable eruption of brass sugar-loaf buttons had taken place; a Dr. Somebody, who turned out to be the nearest apothecary; and a very pale, long-legged youth, the curate of the parish." "A largeish luncheon-party," said I. "Well," said Daly, "I sat down, having first very much ingratiated myself with old Bagswash, who was as chary of his pheasants as if they had been of the golden breed, by insisting upon it that his man Stephens should disencumber my bag of the birds which I had shot on his land, retaining my solitary rabbit, in order to grace my tale when I reached Wrigglesworth; and there I found myself placed between mine hostess, and number one of the daughters--a very nice, pretty thing--not what one should call well set up, but Nature, as I said about gentlemen to her papa, had done a great deal for her; poor thing, how I pitied her!--and pity is akin to love. So, after luncheon, and _some_ wine, do _you_ know, Gurney, I almost began to subside into a tenderer feeling. But then, one of nine!" "Well, and how did it end?" said I.