Another charade follows, in which new actors join. Then comes a merry supper, in which Mr. Alfred Brindle, in order to give himself courage to appear in the next charade, takes more champagne than is good for him; in which, too (probably, from similar champagney reasons), Miss Parkington's unfortunately self-willed nose again assumes a more roseate hue than is becoming to a maiden; in which, too, Mr. Verdant Green being called upon to return thanks for "the ladies"--(toast, proposed in eloquent terms by H. Bouncer, Esq., and drunk "with the usual honours,")--is so alarmed at finding himself upon his legs, that his ideas altogether vanish, and in great confusion of utterance, he observes,--"I--I--ladies and gentlemen--feel--I--I--a--feel--assure you--grattered and flattified--I mean, flattered and gratified--being called on--return thanks--I--I--a--the ladies--give a larm to chife--I mean, charm to life--(_applause_)--and--a--a--grace by their table this presence,--I mean--a--a--(_applause_),--and joytened our eye--I mean, heighted our joy, to-night--(_applause_),--in their name--thanks--honour." Mr. Verdant Green takes advantage of the applause which follows these incoherent remarks, and sits down, covered with confusion, but thankful that the struggle is over. More dancing follows. Our hero performs prodigies in the _valse à deux temps_, and twirls about until he has not a leg left to stand upon. The harp, the violin, and the cornet-à-piston, from the county-town, play mechanically in their sleep, and can only be roused by repeated applications of gin-and-water. Carriages are ordered round: wraps are in requisition: the mysterious rites under the white-berried bush are stealthily repeated for the last time: the guests depart, as it were, in a heap; the Rectory party being the last to leave. The intelligent Mr. Mole, who has fuddled himself by an injudicious mixture of the half-glasses of wine left on the supper-table, is exasperated with the butler for not allowing him to assist in putting away the silver; and declares that he (the butler) is "a hold himage," for which, he (the intelligent Mr. M.), "don't care a button!" and, as the epithet "image" appears to wondrously offend the butler, Mr. Mole is removed from further consequences by his intelligent wife, who is waiting to conduct her lord and master home. At length, the last light is out in the Manor-Green. Mr. Verdant Green is lying uncomfortably upon his back, and is waltzing through Dreamland with the blooming Patty Honeywood. CHAPTER X. MR. VERDANT GREEN ENJOYS A REAL CIGAR. The Christmas vacation passed rapidly away; the Honeywood family returned to the far north; and, once more, Mr. Verdant Green found himself within the walls of Brazenface. He and Mr. Bouncer had together gone up to Oxford, leaving Charles Larkyns behind to keep a grace-term.