Tony came in from the stables at that moment and was presented to Sir George Repington. He had often heard Charles rail against his uncle, but, perceiving no strain in the relation between them, entered yhe gathering with an easy grace, and gave a very humorous account of their departure from the Wells. "Tut, tut," exclaimed Mr. Ripple, for Ripple he must remain, since as Ripple he achieved immortality. "Tut, tut, I cannot have these riotous assemblies. This comes of leaving Curtain Wells. By the way, where is Mrs. Courteen?" "She has an audience, sir," said Clare, "and is, therefore, as happy as can be expected under the circumstances." "Who is Mrs. Courteen?" This from Sir George. "A lady in whose company I have set out upon a very restless adventure. Cupid, George, has been shooting his arrows of late, without much regard to our mortal comfort. I believe the young rogue was unduly elated by the success of his Valentines." "Sure, you aren't abroad on a love-affair, too, William?" "Not of my own, George, but I have an onus in the matter. Some one has stolen a porcelain shepherdess from my booth in Vanity Fair." "That would be the young woman with whom I supped to-night in this inn. Her name was Courteen." "What! then we all have an interest in this matter, and can discuss the proper conduct of it over the very excellent supper whose arrival I anticipate without apprehension. This is a capital house, George." "The landlord is an oddity," said Clare, "called me tulip and onion in a breath, and begged to be allowed to brush the mud off my boots which he said was a famous manure for carnation gillyflowers. I 'faith, the old boy made me feel devilish unclean." Mrs. Tabrum came in to say the widow would not take supper with the gentlemen. She was much fatigued, and would be glad to retire to bed if Mr. Pipple--or was it Ripple--had no objection. "None whatsoever," replied the latter in a pensive tone of voice. He was meditating rather sadly upon the circumscription of human fame. A mere five-and-twenty miles from Curtain Wells, and already there was a doubt as to whether he were Pipple or Ripple. "The widow don't intend to proceed," said Charles, when Mrs. Tabrum had curtseyed her way out. "She is a foolish woman," said the Beau. "But you are not going to leave the daughter to her fate," asked Sir George. "As you----" he stopped. Charles looked up; Mr. Ripple gravely took a pinch of snuff. "I think," said the former, "that I shall be more likely to catch the chariot. What's o'clock?" "Half-past ten," said Clare. "Your horse must rest an hour or two yet; I'll ride with you." "That would be wiser," said Sir George eagerly. "Then nobody will say Charles took an unfair advantage of him. Although--" Again he stopped in a sentence, and again Mr. Ripple took a pinch of snuff.