“Well, well! but he’s alive now; go on with your story, Christopher,” said Mrs. T. “Chimney-sweepers get wedged in chimneys every day; it’s part of their trade, and it’s a happy thing when they come off with a few bruises. {236} To be sure,” added she, observing that both Frederick and Marianne looked displeased at this speech, “to be sure, if one may believe this story, there was some real danger.” “Real danger! yes, indeed,” said Marianne; “and I’m sure I think Mr. Eden was very good.” “Certainly it was a most commendable action, and quite providential. So I shall take an opportunity of saying, when I tell the story in all companies; and the boy may thank his kind stars, I’m sure, to the end of his days, for such an escape—But pray, Christopher,” said she, persisting in her conversation with Christopher, who was now laying the cloth for supper, “pray, which house was it in Paradise Row? where the Eagles or the Miss Ropers lodge? or which?” “It was at my Lady Battersby’s, ma’am.” “Ha! ha!” cried Mrs. Theresa, “I thought we should get to the bottom of the affair at last. This is excellent! This will make an admirable story for my Lady Battersby the next time I see her. These Quakers are so sly! Old Eden, I know, has long wanted to obtain an introduction into that house; and a charming charitable expedient hit upon! My Lady Battersby will enjoy this, of all things.” CHAPTER III. “NOW,” continued Mrs. Theresa, turning to Frederick, as soon as the servant had left the room, “now, Mr. Frederick Montague, I have a favour—such a favour—to ask of you; it’s a favour which only you can grant; you have such talents, and would do the thing so admirably; and my Lady Battersby would quite adore you for it. She will do me the honour to be here to spend an evening to-morrow. I’m convinced Mr. and Mrs. Montague will find themselves obliged to stay out another day, and I so long to show you off to her ladyship; and your Doctor Carbuncle, and your Counsellor Puff, and your Miss Croker, and all your charming characters. You must let me introduce you to her ladyship to-morrow evening. Promise me.” “Oh, ma’am,” said Frederick, “I cannot promise you any such thing, indeed. I am much obliged to you; but indeed I cannot come.” “Why not, my dear sir? why not? You don’t think I mean you should promise, if you are certain your papa and mamma will be home.” “If they do come home, I will ask them about it,” said Frederick, hesitating; for though he by no means wished to accept the invitation, he had not yet acquired the necessary power of decidedly saying No. “Ask them!” repeated Mrs. Theresa. “My dear sir, at your age, must you ask your papa and mamma about such things?” “Must! no, ma’am,” said Frederick; “but I said I would. I know I need not, because my father and mother always let me judge for myself almost about everything.”