man, who had known Mr. Kenwigs when he was a bachelor, and was much esteemed by the ladies, as bearing the reputation of a rake. To these were added a newly-married couple, who had visited Mr. and Mrs. Kenwigs in their courtship, and a sister of Mrs. Kenwigs's, who was quite a beauty; besides whom, there was another young man supposed to entertain honourable designs upon the lady last mentioned, and Mr. Noggs, who was a genteel person to ask, because he had been a gentleman once. There were also an elderly lady from the back parlour, and one more young lady, who, next to the collector, perhaps was the great lion of the party, being the daughter of a theatrical fireman, who "went on" in the pantomime, and had the greatest turn for the stage that was ever known, being able to sing and recite in a manner that brought the tears into Mrs. Kenwigs's eyes. There was only one drawback upon the pleasure of seeing such friends, and that was, that the lady in the back parlour, who was very fat, and turned of sixty, came in a low book-muslin dress and short kid gloves, which so exasperated Mrs. Kenwigs, that that lady assured her sister in private, that if it hadn't happened that the supper was cooking at the back-parlour grate at that moment, she certainly would have requested its representative to withdraw.
"My dear," said Mr. Kenwigs, "wouldn't it be better to begin a round game?"
"Kenwigs, my dear," returned his wife, "I am surprised at you. Would you begin without my uncle?"
"I forgot the collector," said Kenwigs; "oh no, that would never do."
"He's so particular," said Mrs. Kenwigs, turning to the other married lady, "that if we began without him, I should be out of his will for ever."
"Dear!" cried the married lady.
"You've no idea what he is," replied Mrs. Kenwigs; "and yet as good a creature as ever breathed."
"The kindest-hearted man that ever was," said Kenwigs.
"It goes to his heart, I believe, to be forced to cut the water off when the people don't pay," observed the bachelor friend, intending a joke.
"George," said Mr. Kenwigs, solemnly, "none of that, if you please."
"It was only my joke," said the friend, abashed.
"George," rejoined Mr. Kenwigs, "a joke is a wery good thing—a wery good thing—but when that joke is made at the expense of Mrs. Kenwigs's feelings, I set my face against it. A man in public life expects to be sneered at—it is the fault of his elewated sitiwation, not of himself. Mrs. Kenwigs's relation is a public man, and that he knows, George, and that he can bear; but putting Mrs. Kenwigs out of the question (if I could put Mrs. Kenwigs out of the question on such an occasion as this), I have the honour to be connected with the collector by marriage; and I cannot allow these remarks in my—" Mr. Kenwigs was going to say "house," but he rounded the sentence with "apartments."
