 out all sorts of articles to the nobility and gentry,
from a service of plate to an army of footmen, clapped into this house a
silver-headed butler (who was charged extra on that account, as having the
appearance of an ancient family retainer), two very tall young men in livery,
and a select staff of kitchen-servants; so that a legend arose, down stairs,
that Withers the page, released at once from his numerous household duties, and
from the propulsion of the wheeled-chair (inconsistent with the metropolis), had
been several times observed to rub his eyes and pinch his limbs, as if he
misdoubted his having overslept himself at the Leamington milkman's, and being
still in a celestial dream. A variety of requisites in plate and china being
also conveyed to the same establishment from the same convenient source, with
several miscellaneous articles, including a neat chariot and a pair of bays,
Mrs. Skewton cushioned herself on the principal sofa, in the Cleopatra attitude,
and held her court in fair state.
    »And how,« said Mrs. Skewton, on the entrance of her daughter and her
charge, »is my charming Florence? You must come and kiss me, Florence, if you
please, my love.«
    Florence was timidly stooping to pick out a place in the white part of Mrs.
Skewton's face, when that lady presented her ear, and relieved her of her
difficulty.
    »Edith, my dear,« said Mrs. Skewton, »positively, I - stand a little more in
the light, my sweetest Florence, for a moment.«
    Florence blushingly complied.
    »You don't remember, dearest Edith,« said her mother, »what you were when
you were about the same age as our exceedingly precious Florence, or a few years
younger?«
    »I have long forgotten, mother.«
    »For positively, my dear,« said Mrs. Skewton, »I do think that I see a
decided resemblance to what you were then, in our extremely fascinating young
friend. And it shows,« said Mrs. Skewton, in a lower voice, which conveyed her
opinion that Florence was in a very unfinished state, »what cultivation will
do.«
    »It does, indeed,« was Edith's stern reply.
    Her mother eyed her sharply for a moment, and feeling herself on unsafe
ground, said, as a diversion:
    »My charming Florence, you must come and kiss me once more, if you please,
my love.«
    Florence complied, of
