“The infernal impudent humbug,” said Mr. Gibbs to himself, as he walked smartly homewards; “the twopenny-halfpenny mushroom, sprung from a northern dunghill--never mind, I’ll be even with him some day. Fifty talents of silver invested in iron! Of late the fellow has assumed an air of superiority, and a bullying manner, which is devilish hard to bear. Wait a little, wait a little, _très bon ami_; you’ll find yourself in the mire one of these days.” It _was_ hard to bear, no doubt, but Richard Tallant was a very profitable investment to Mr. Shuffleton Gibbs, and he could afford to bottle up his Brummagem resentment; for such a fellow as Shuffleton Gibbs could hardly be said to have any honourable feelings of resentment. He was bankrupt, not only in purse, but in reputation; he might have got over the former in time, but he could never whitewash the latter. Mr. Christopher Tallant had been proud of his son the first time he had seen him, prancing and capering in the Lady’s Mile, as he pranced and capered soon after Mr. Gibbs left him. Mr. Tallant had gone down to the Park quietly on foot, and, unobserved, had seen his son a leading man of fashion, on the best horse amongst the most magnificent of all the splendid animals there. He had seen him acknowledged by many a dashing rider, and had watched him turn out into the carriage-drive, to ride beside a gorgeous yellow brougham, with beautiful women in it. Somehow the merchant could not help feeling annoyed with himself for harbouring such a pride as this; but he had not forgotten the Oxford epigram, and he liked to see a Tallant riding about amongst the big men, the greatest swell of the lot. CHAPTER V. THE DIBBLES AND THEIR NEW LODGER. Thomas Dibble, the porter, who held himself at the beck and call of the principals and officers of the Meter Iron Works Company at Westminster, lived in one of those numerous little streets which run off from the semi-aristocratic regions of St. George’s Square, South Belgravia, to Whitehall; and his wife let lodgings and wore gorgeous caps. She was quite a study this Mrs. Dibble, quite a psychological study. She governed Dibble, and yet made him her shield and protection in the most amusing and complete fashion. She was a fat, rubicund woman, with her dress either unfastened behind or before, and her cap hanging on the back of her head, both in summer and winter, as if she were in a perpetual state of perspiration.