My lord was sittn in a crimson satan dressing-gown, lolling on a sofa at an open windy, smoaking seagars, as ushle; her ladyship, who, to du her justice, didn mind the smell, occupied another end of the room, and was working, in wusted, a pare of slippers, or an umbrellore case, or a coal-skittle, or some such nonsints. You would have thought to have sean 'em that they had been married a sentry, at least. Well, I bust in upon this conjugal tator-tator, and said, very much alarmed, “My lord, here's your son and daughter-in-law.” “Well,” says my lord, quite calm, “and what then?” “Mr. Deuceace!” says my lady, starting up, and looking fritened. “Yes, my love, my son; but you need not be alarmed. Pray, Charles, say that Lady Crabs and I will be very happy to see Mr. and Mrs. Deuceace; and that they must excuse us receiving them en famille. Sit still, my blessing--take things coolly. Have you got the box with the papers?” My lady pointed to a great green box--the same from which she had taken the papers, when Deuceace fust saw them,--and handed over to my lord a fine gold key. I went out, met Deuceace and his wife on the stepps, gave my messinge, and bowed them palitely in. My lord didn't rise, but smoaked away as usual (praps a little quicker, but I can't say); my lady sat upright, looking handsum and strong. Deuceace walked in, his left arm tied to his breast, his wife and hat on the other. He looked very pale and frightened; his wife, poar thing! had her head berried in her handkerchief, and sobd fit to break her heart. Miss Kicksey, who was in the room (but I didn't mention her, she was less than nothink in our house), went up to Mrs. Deuceace at onst, and held out her arms--she had a heart, that old Kicksey, and I respect her for it. The poor hunchback flung herself into Miss's arms, with a kind of whooping screech, and kep there for some time, sobbing in quite a historical manner. I saw there was going to be a sean, and so, in cors, left the door ajar. “Welcome to Saint Cloud, Algy my boy!” says my lord, in a loud, hearty voice. “You thought you would give us the slip, eh, you rogue? But we knew it, my dear fellow: we knew the whole affair--did we not, my soul?--and you see, kept our secret better than you did yours.” “I must confess, sir,” says Deuceace, bowing, “that I had no idea of the happiness which awaited me in the shape of a mother-in-law.” “No, you dog; no, no,” says my lord, giggling: “old birds, you know, not to be caught with chaff, like young ones. But here we are, all spliced and happy, at last. Sit down, Algernon; let us smoke a segar, and talk over the perils and adventures of the last month. My love,” says my lord, turning to his lady, “you have no malice against poor Algernon, I trust? Pray shake HIS HAND.” (A grin.)