PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. WATKINS TOTTLE. 135 



" Come in," replied Watkins. 



" Well, have you done it ?" anxiously inquired Gabriel. 

 " Have I done it !" said Watkins Tottle. " Hush I'm going to 

 the clergyman." 



" No !" said Parsons. " How well you have managed it." 

 <( Where does Tim son live ?" inquired Watkins. 

 " At his uncle's," replied Gabriel, " just round the lane. He's 

 waiting for a living, and has been assisting his uncle here for the last 

 two or three months. But how well you have done it I didn't 

 think you could have carried it off so." 



Mr. Watkins Tottle was proceeding to demonstrate that the 

 Ri chard sonian principle was the best on which love could possibly be 

 made, when he was interrupted by the entrance of Martha with a 

 little pink note folded like a fancy cocked hat. 



" Miss Lillerton's compliments," said Martha, as she delivered it 

 into Tottle's hands, and vanished. 



"Do you observe the delicacy?" said Tottle, appealing to Mr. 

 Gabriel Parsons. " Compliments, not love, by the servant, eh ?" 



Mr. Gabriel Parsons didn't exactly know what reply to make, so 

 he poked the forefinger of his right hand between the third and fourth 

 ribs of Mr. Watkins Tottle. 



" Come," said Watkins, when the explosion of mirth, consequent 

 on this practical jest, had subsided, " we'll be off at once let's lose 

 no time." 



" Capital !" echoed Mr. Gabriel Parsons ; and in five minutes 

 they were at the garden-gate of the villa tenanted by the uncle of 

 Mr. Tim son. 



" Is Mr. Charles Timson at home ?" inquired Mr. Watkins Tottle 

 of Mr. Charles Timson's uncle's man. 



" Mr. Charles is at home," replied the man, stammering ; " but 

 he desired me to say he couldn't be interrupted, Sir, by any of the 

 parishioners." 



" / am not a parishioner," replied Watkins. 



" Is Mr. Charles writing a sermon, Tom ?" inquired Parsons, 

 thrusting himself forward. 



" No, Mr. Parsons, Sir ; he's not exactly writing a sermon, but 

 he's practising the violincello in his own bedroom, and gave strict 

 orders not to be disturbed." 



" Say I'm here," replied Gabriel, leading the way across the 

 garden ; " Mr. Parsons and Mr. Tottle, on private and particular 

 business." 



They were shewn into the parlour, and the servant departed to 

 deliver his message. The distant groaning of the violincello ceased ; 

 footsteps were heard on the stairs, and Mr. Timson presented himself, 

 and shook hands with Parsons with the utmost cordiality. 



<c How do you do, Sir ?" said Watkins Tottle with much solemnity. 

 " How do you do, Sir?" replied Timson, with as much coldness 

 as if it were a matter of perfect indifference to him how he did, as it 

 very likely was. 



" I beg to deliver this note to you," said Watkins Tottle, pro- 

 ducing the cocked hat. 



