 the vibration of which,
according to the speculation of an ingenious modern philosopher, may go on
travelling for ever through the interminable fields of space, nothing but coming
to the end of his moral tether could stop Sir Barnet Skettles in his voyage of
discovery through the social system.
    Sir Barnet was proud of making people acquainted with people. He liked the
thing for its own sake, and it advanced his favourite object too. For example,
if Sir Barnet had the good fortune to get hold of a raw recruit, or a country
gentleman, and ensnared him to his hospitable villa, Sir Barnet would say to
him, on the morning after his arrival, »Now, my dear Sir, is there anybody you
would like to know? Who is there you would wish to meet? Do you take any
interest in writing people, or in painting or sculpturing people, or in acting
people, or in anything of that sort?« Possibly the patient answered yes, and
mentioned somebody, of whom Sir Barnet had no more personal knowledge than of
Ptolemy the Great. Sir Barnet replied, that nothing on earth was easier, as he
knew him very well: immediately called on the aforesaid somebody, left his card,
wrote a short note, - »My dear Sir - penalty of your eminent position - friend
at my house naturally desirous - Lady Skettles and myself participate - trust
that genius being superior to ceremonies, you will do us the distinguished
favour of giving us the pleasure,« etc., etc. - and so killed a brace of birds
with one stone, dead as door-nails.
    With the snuff-box and banner in full force, Sir Barnet Skettles propounded
his usual inquiry to Florence on the first morning of her visit. When Florence
thanked him, and said there was no one in particular whom she desired to see, it
was natural she should think with a pang, of poor lost Walter. When Sir Barnet
Skettles, urging his kind offer, said, »My dear Miss Dombey, are you sure you
can remember no one whom your good Papa - to whom I beg you to present the best
compliments of myself and Lady Skettles when you write - might wish you to
know?« it was natural, perhaps, that her poor head should droop a little, and
that her voice should tremble as it softly answered in the negative.
    Skettles Junior, much stiffened as to his cravat, and sobered down as to his
spirits, was at home for the holidays, and appeared to feel himself aggrieved by
the solicitude of his excellent mother that he should be attentive
