"He? who?"
"You stupid man—as if there were more than one he! There were two, but the other has been."
"Upon my word, I don't understand," said Mr. Sowerby, now again at his ease. "But can I do any thing? shall I go and fetch any one? Oh, Tom Towers! I fear I can't help you. But here he is at the foot of the stairs!" And then Mr. Sowerby stood back with his sister to make way for the great representative man of the age.
"Angels and ministers of grace, assist me!" said Miss Dunstable. "How on earth am I to behave myself? Mr. Sowerby, do you think that I ought to kneel down? My dear, will he have a reporter at his back in the royal livery?" And then Miss Dunstable advanced two or three steps—not into the doorway, as she had done for Mr. Sowerby—put out her hand, and smiled her sweetest on Mr. Towers of the Jupiter.
"Mr. Towers," she said, "I am delighted to have this opportunity of seeing you in my own house."
"Miss Dunstable, I am immensely honored by the privilege of being here," said he.
"The honor done is all conferred on me," and she bowed and courtesied with very stately grace. Each thoroughly understood the badinage of the other; and then, in a few moments, they were engaged in very easy conversation.
"By-the-by, Sowerby, what do you think of this threatened dissolution?" said Tom Towers.
"We are all in the hands of Providence," said Mr. Sowerby, striving to take the matter without any outward show of emotion. But the question was one of terrible import to him, and up to this time he had heard of no such threat; nor had Mrs. Harold Smith, nor Miss Dunstable, nor had a hundred others who now either listened to the vaticinations of Mr. Towers, or to the immediate report made of them. But it is given to some men to originate such tidings, and the performance of the prophecy is often brought about by the authority of the prophet. On the following morning the rumor that there would be a dissolution was current in all high circles. "They have no conscience in such matters—no conscience whatever," said a small god, speaking of the giants—a small god, whose constituency was expensive.
Mr. Towers stood there chatting for about twenty min-
