"A little bit of business, my dear sir. I thought I'd come on instead of writing. Thanks--you'll pardon me--a pinch of snuff--the Prince's own mixture." "Ah yes." _Snuff, snuff, snuff_. "Don't like it though--too scented for me. Come along." He led the way through a large, gloomy hall, well hung with large pictures and ornamented with pedestals and busts, up a broad, well-carpeted staircase and into the drawing-room of the house--a room, however, that looked more like a museum, so crowded was it with pictures, old china, clocks, statues, and bronzes. Huge vases, tiny Dresden ornaments, rich carpets, branches and lustres of cut-glass and ormolu, almost jostled each other, while the centre of the room was filled with lounges, chairs and tables, rich in buhl and marqueterie. At a table covered with papers sat plump, pleasant-looking Mrs Barclay, in a very rich, stiff brocade silk. Her appearance was vulgar; there were too many rings upon her fat fingers, too much jewellery about her neck and throat; and her showy cap was a wonder of lace and ribbons; but Nature had set its stamp upon her countenance, and though she was holding her head on one side, pursing up her lips and frowning as she wrote in the big ledger-like book open before her, there was no mistaking the fact that she was a thoroughly good-hearted amiable soul. "Oh, bless us, how you startled me!" she cried, throwing herself back, for the door had opened quietly, and steps were hardly heard upon the soft carpet. "Why, it's you, Mr Denville, looking as if you were just going to a ball. How are you? Not well? You look amiss. And how's Miss Claire? and pretty little Mrs Mayblossom--Mrs Burnett?" "My daughters are well in the extreme, Mrs Barclay," said the MC, taking the lady's plump extended hand as she rose, to bend over it, and kiss the fingers with the most courtly grace. "And you, my dear madam, you?" "Oh, she's well enough, Denville," said Barclay, chuckling. "Robust's the word for her." "For shame, Jo-si-ah!" exclaimed the lady, reddening furiously. She had only blushed slightly before with pleasure; and after kicking back her stiff silk dress to make a profound curtsey. "You shouldn't say such things. Why, Mr Denville, I haven't seen you for ever so long; and I've meant to call on Miss Claire, for we always get on so well together; but I'm so busy, what with the servants, _and_ the dusting, _and_ the keeping the books, _and_ the exercise as I'm obliged to take--" "And don't," said Barclay, placing a chair for the MC, and then sitting down and putting his hands in his pockets. "For shame, Jo-si-ah. I do indeed, Mr Denville, and it do make me so hot." "There, that'll do, old lady. Mr Denville wants to see me on business. Don't you, Denville?" "Yes--on a trifle of business; but I know that Mrs Barclay is in your confidence. You'll pardon me, Mrs Barclay?"