“It would hardly be possible for you to be any cleverer,” said Dibble. “However you does change them cards so wonderful, is a mystery to me.” “Ah, that’s easy enough, Thomas; I mean clever at reading and writing, and all that. You didn’t know Carkey, of course. He was father’s clown. Ah, these were the days! We once had a circus company, Thomas; a real grand affair, with horses, and ladies in spangles and tights, and father used to stand in the middle in jackboots and crack a whip.” “You don’t say so!” said Dibble, who felt highly honoured at the condescension of the young lady in telling him all this. “O, yes; it was stunning, I can tell you. I was a very little girl at the time--very little; I can only just remember it; but Carkey, the clown, when father was done up, and had to turn to conjuring, he stuck to us for long enough, and it was he who used to tell me all about it.” “I never see a clown but once,” said Dibble, “and that was when me and----” “Yes,” said Christabel, “you and----” “Well, I was going to say,” Dibble stammered. “You and----” repeated Christabel. “Now, you are keeping something from me: if it’s a secret, tell it me, and I’ll tell you another--such a first-rater.” “You will?” exclaimed Dibble. “Yes,” said Christabel, nodding her head, and laughing quite gleefully. “And you’ll never tell, on your blessed oath?” said Dibble. “But what’s the good of oaths? I’d rather trust to your honour.” “Then you may,” said Christabel; “for I’m longing to tell you a secret,--one that I’ve kept for, O, ever so long! Now, who was it when you and----” “Well, then, I wor going to say, when me and Mrs. Dibble--which be my wife,” said Thomas, “once went to a pantomime, and see the clown eat three yards of sausages, and jump through a clock.” “So you’ve a wife?” said Christabel, disregarding altogether the wonderful feat of the clown in the pantomime. “Yes; and I’ve bin and run away from her,” said Dibble; “so there’s my secret, and I trusts to your honour.” “What did you run away for?” asked Christabel. “Well, ’cos I’d bin and got into trouble in the panic,” said Dibble. “What’s a panic?” asked Christabel. “I never heard of a panic.” “Why, you see, it’s a sort of row in the City about what shares be worth, and which buys ’em, and who sells ’em, and whether you’ve got ’em, or the other one; but the great thing of all is to know what a bull is, and which is the bear, and whether, you ought to be one or the ’tother, and whether it’s premium or par, or what the discount be.” This was one of the longest explanatory speeches that Dibble had ever made, except when he was trying to convince Mrs. Dibble that he was a bull, and could not help it. He looked at Christabel, and fancied that he had given a particularly lucid description of a panic; but the mysterious lady stared in astonishment at Dibble, and said-- “So that’s a panic, is it?”