“He 's worse than ever,” remarked Haggerstone, irritably. “When people have a natural infirmity, they ought to confine themselves to their own room.” “Particularly when it is one of the tem-tem-temper,” said Purvis, almost choked with passion. “Better a hasty temper than an impracticable tongue, sir.” said Haggerstone. “Be quiet, Scroope,” added Mrs. Ricketts; and he was still. Then, turning to the Colonel, she went on: “How thankful we ought to be that we never knew these people! They brought letters to us, some, indeed, from dear and valued friends. That sweet Diana Comerton, who married the Duke of Ellewater, wrote a most pressing entreaty that I should call upon them.” “She did n't marry the Duke; she married his chap-chaplain,” chimed in Purvis. “Will you be quiet, Scroope?” remarked the lady. “I ought to know,” rejoined he, grown courageous in the goodness of his cause. “He was Bob Nutty. Bitter Bob, we always called him at school. He had a kind of a poly-poly-poly--” “A polyanthus,” suggested Haggerstone. “No. It was a poly-polypus a polypus, that made him snuffle in his speech.” “Ach Gott!” sighed the Pole; but whether in sorrow for poor “Bob,” or in utter weariness at his historian, was hard to say. “Lady Foxington, too,” said Mrs. Ricketts, “made a serious request that we should be intimate with her friend Lady Hester. She was candid enough to say that her Ladyship would not suit me. 'She has no soul, Zoe,' wrote she, 'so I need n't say more.'” “Dat is ver bad,” said the Pole, gravely. “Still, I should have made her acquaintance, for the sake of that young creature Miss Dalton, I think they call her and whom I rather suspect to be a distant cousin of ours.” “Yes; there were Dawkinses at Exeter a very respectable solicitor, one was, Joe Dawkins,” came in Purvis; “and he used to say we were co-co-co-connections.” “This family, sir, is called Dalton, and not even a stutter can make that Dawkins.” “Couldn't your friend Mr. Foglass find out something about these Daltons for us, as he goes through Germany?” asked Mrs. Ricketts of the Colonel. “No one could execute such a commission better, madam, only you must give him his instructions in writing. Foglass,” added he, at the top of his voice, “let me have your note-book for a moment.” “With pleasure,” said he, presenting his snuff-box. “No; your memorandum-book,” screamed the other, louder. “It's gone down,” whispered the deaf man. “I lost the key on Tuesday last.” “Not your watch, man. I want to write a line in your note-book;” and he made a pantomimic of writing. “Yes, certainly; if Mrs. R. will permit, I'll write to her with pleasure.” “Confound him!” muttered Haggerstone; and, taking up a visiting-card, he wrote on the back of it, “Could you trace the Daltons as you go back by Baden?” The deaf man at once brightened up; a look of shrewd intelligence lighted up his fishy eyes as he said, “Yes, of course; say, what do you want?”