^4 THE MASTER OP THE HOUSDS. 



" This brings to my recollection/' said Vernon, " a running 

 fight I witnessed in town, last summer, between two Jew boys, 

 one following the other, and belabouring him with his clothes- 

 bag, the pursued crying out appealingiy to the passers-by, 

 ( Ain't he spiteful, now, ain't he spiteful 1 ' pointing to his nasal 

 organ, dropping blood, as he bustled along the street." 



The introduction of coffee was a hint to Sir Lionel and his 

 friends that their presence was now required in the drawing- 

 room, which failed not in being obeyed, deep potations not then 

 being the fashion. 



Constance and Blanche were seated together on an ottoman 

 sipping their tea, when William Beauchamp joined them, a seat 

 being offered by his sister between them, which he gladly 

 accepted. Old John, .the butler, had just entered the room; 

 and, in passing with several smoking cups on his tray, piping 

 hot from the housekeeper's room, his foot caught in the leg of a 

 chair, and he would have precipitated the scalding liquid over 

 Blanche Douglas, but for the quick eye and rapid movement of 

 William Beauchamp, who sprang up before her, and received 

 the contents over his own person. 



" Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! " cried the old man. " To think that T 

 should have done such a thing to you, Mr. William." 



" Better to me than Miss Douglas, my old friend." 



" But you must be dreadfully scalded, sir," he added, " all 

 through my awkwardness ! What can I do 1 " 



a Oh ! William ! " exclaimed Constance, jumping up to his 

 aid. " Are you much hurt ? " 



" No, no, dear, not in the least. My best front and waist- 

 coat are alone a little damaged." 



" More than that, I expect, my boy," said Sir Lionel, walk- 

 ing hastily up. "Come with me, Will, directly, and change 

 your things," and he followed his host from the room. 



Blanche neither spoke nor rose from her seat : but her 

 quivering lip and flushed face betrayed her emotion, which did 

 not pass unnoticed by Mrs. Harcourt, wHose attention was 

 directed to the scene. But Constance (with a woman's quick 

 perception of her feelings), standing before her friend to screen 

 her from observation, stooped as if to examine her dress, and 

 whispered, " Don't be alarmed, dear Blanche — all eyes are upon 

 us — my brother is not hurt." 



" Oh, how kind of him to save me at his own risk ! " she 

 replied. " I am sure he must be dreadfully scalded." 



" Oh, no, my dear girl ; I hope the tea was not very hot.' 



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