“How do you do, Mr. Honeyman?—Eh, bong soir, Monsieur—You are very late, Mr. Pressly.—What, Barnes! is it possible that you do me the honour to come all the way from Mayfair to Marylebone? I thought you young men of fashion never crossed Oxford Street. Colonel Newcome, this is your nephew.” “How do you do, sir?” says Barnes, surveying the Colonel’s costume with inward wonder, but without the least outward manifestation of surprise. “I suppose you dined here to meet the black Prince. I came to ask him and my uncle to meet you at dinner on Wednesday. Where’s my uncle, ma’am?” “Your uncle is gone to bed ill. He smoked one of those hookahs which the Prince brings, and it has made him very unwell indeed, Barnes. How is Lady Anne? Is Lord Kew in London? Is your sister better for Brighton air? I see your cousin is appointed Secretary of Legation. Have you good accounts of your aunt Lady Fanny?” “Lady Fanny is as well as can be expected, and the baby is going on perfectly well, thank you,” Barnes said drily; and his aunt, obstinately gracious with him, turned away to some other new comet. “It’s interesting, isn’t it, sir,” says Barnes, turning to the Colonel, “to see such union in families? Whenever I come here, my aunt trots out all my relations; and I send a man round in the mornin to ask how they all are. So Uncle Hobson is gone to bed sick with a hookah? I know there was a deuce of a row made when I smoked at Marblehead. You are promised to us for Wednesday, please. Is there anybody you would like to meet? Not our friend the Rummun? How the girls crowd round him! By Gad, a fellow who’s rich in London may have the pick of any gal—not here—not in this sort of thing; I mean in society, you know,” says Barnes confidentially, “I’ve seen the old dowagers crowdin round that fellow, and the girls snugglin up to his india-rubber face. He’s known to have two wives already in India; but, by Gad, for a settlement, I believe some of ’em here would marry—I mean of the girls in society.” “But isn’t this society?” asked the Colonel. “Oh, of course. It’s very good society and that sort of thing—but it’s not, you know—you understand. I give you my honour there are not three people in the room one meets anywhere, except the Rummun. What is he at home, sir? I know he ain’t a Prince, you know, any more than I am.” “I believe he is a rich man now,” said the Colonel. “He began from very low beginnings, and odd stories are told about the origin of his fortune.”