Tom Racquet, and his three maiden aunts; with a word or two about 'The Whittleburys.' Illustrated by R. Cruikshank

Front matter

TOM RACQUET AND HIS THREE MAIDEN AUNTS ; WITH A WORD OR TWO ABOUT " THE WHITTLEBURYS. ISY CHARLES W. MANBY. WITH FOURTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS BY ROBERT CRUIKSHANK. LONDON : J. & D. A. DARLING, 126, BISHOPSGATE STREET, 1847. CONTENTS. Chapter I. — Introduction : a little about Tom's Aunts, a little about himself, and shewing how he became acquainted with the Whittleburys. Chapter II. — Of the Whittleburys. Chapter III. — Coddlethorpe Hall. Chapter IV. — The success attendant upon Tom's visit to Coddlethorpe. Chapter V. — The Aunts' decision — Tom's return to Jermyn Street — and an Accident at Muggins' Gap. Chapter VI. — Mr. Horace Chuck. Chapter VII. — Jermyn Street, and the Whittleburys and Aunt Lucy. Chapter VIII. — Aunt Lucy and Mr. Whittlebury. Chapter IX. — Something Mysterious. Chapter X. — The Kiss and the consequence.

Chapter XI. — The mysterious Visiter. Chapter XII. — The Fate of Tom's note to his dearly beloved— and a Journey to Westmoreland. Chapter XIII. — A Project. Chapter XIV. — Robbery (Amateur). Chapter XV. — Robbery (Professional). Chapter XVI.— The Town of Welderton, and the Wren's Nest Mine. Chapter XVII.— Tom lays the Foundation of a Misfortune, and catches sight of his mysterious Visiter again. Chapter XVIII.— Tom's Chase after Mr. Blink. VI CONTENTS. Chapter XIX. — Coddlethorpe. XX.— Mr. Chuck dines, and meets with an old Schoolfellow Chapter Chapter XXI.— A Trip to the Lakes. Chapter XXII — The Rencontre. Chapter XXIII . — Treachery. Chapter XXIV.— The Mid-day Spectre ofthe Mine. Chapter XXV.— The Search. Chapter XXVI. — Conjunction of Villany. Chapter XXVII. — Indications of a Riot. Chapter XXVIII.— The Flight and the Mountain Storm.

Chapter XXIX. --The Rescue. Chapter XXX. — The Colonel loses a Daughter and gains a Chapter XXXI.— The Last. Niece. I remember, when I was at school, that I always took care to " shew up" my pothooks and hangers by twilight, hoping, by that manœuvre, to hide most of the imperfections from the piercing eye of the Dominie — -I cannot but plead guilty of the same sort of ruse in the present instance. Christmas is coming — that beautiful evening of the year — -when men's minds are more given to charity and plumpudding than to snubbing each other for innocent tom-fooleries. Like my dear little self, therefore, of by-gone years, and with much the same feelings, do I now " bring up my writing;" and stand with extended palm, in trembling hope of a good mark ; but also with most wondrous misgivings as to the whereabouts of mine ancient, stinging, and most closely-fitting friend, — the strap. C. M.

Chapter I. Introductory

— A LITTLE ABOUT TOm's AUNTS, A LITTLE ABOUT HIMSELF, AND SHEWING HOW HE BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH THE WHITTLEBURYS. Tom Racquet's three maiden Aunts were three of the nicest little souls in existence. Many and many a time had they all three sworn — no, not sworn — had they all three protested, when some good natured friend had whispered in their gentle ears, how Tom had just reaped an additional crop of his wild oats, and was laid up in conse quence of the exertions thereunto appertaining — many and many a time had they all three protested "that they would never speak to that incorrigible young fellow of a nephew of theirs any more ;" yet, ere a month had elapsed, had that same incorrigible young fellow of a nephew contrived, by means sundry and various, again to reinstate himself in the excellent old ladies' good graces, and to become as great a favourite as ever.

Tom Racquet was certainly a capital fellow ; as honourable as the Lord Mayor, aud as liberal as Aldgate pump : there was, however, one sad blot upon Tom's fair fame, which rendered him dangerous in the eyes of all the wealthy and pretty-daughter-possessing set of his flowery acquaintance. He could boast of but two hundred pounds per annum ; and for anybody, with the character of a gentleman, to pretend to exist upon such a paltry stipend was, to say the least of it, very atrocious behaviour. Papas and Mammas were shy of Tom. Tom was handsome in every sense of the word, and wore a most killing little moustache, and a most captivating pair of whiskers ; and, if the truth must be told, Tom was perfectly aware of the fact of his being a handsome fellow, liaving more than once detected the laughing eyes B TOM RACQTJET. of a certain Miss CaroUne Whittlebury— (of whom more anon)— an extremely pretty girl herself, and, consequently, well qualified to be a judge of such matters— glancing stealthUy from under thei* dark and silken fringe, and resting with evident satisfaction upon his most lady killing appearance, without knowing that he, the said Mr. Thomas Racquet, was wickedly and delightedly watching the whole pro ceeding.

Tom, as we said before, could boast of but two hundred pounds of the current coin of these realms for his annual income ; and this, too, totaUy and absolutely at the will and caprice of his three maiden Aunts, Emily, Lucy, and Cecilia Racquet, of Coddlethorpe Hall, Bed fordshire. His father, like many a gallant fellow before him, had fallen in the service of his country during one of the numerous en gagements with our swarthy opponents in the Indian territories. Of the fate of his mother but Uttle was known : shortly after Tom's birth, she had set forth to join her husband at Calcutta, and report had reached Coddlethorpe, about a year after her arrival, of the birth of a daughter ; but as this was never authenticated by letter from either Mrs. Captain Racquet or her husband, the three sisters con ceived the fact to be more than doubtful.

The packet which conveyed to them the news of a tremendous battle in forcing one of the passes, also brought the inteUigence of the death of their gallant and dearly loved brother ; but no letter — no certain intimation of the fate of his widow ever reached their anxious ears ; all clue was lost, and it was generally supposed that she must have perished upon the field by the hands of one of those miscreants who infest the 'bed of glory,' and murder all those in cold blood whom the War-fiend may, in his im petuous rush, have hurled to the ground and passed over ere his bloody work was completed. Colonel Grey, an old officer who feU wounded close to Captain Racquet, mentioned a melancholy incident, which seemed to throw some light upon the fate of the unfortunate lady, although the darkness of the evening at the time of the occurrence prevented his iden tifying the person sufficiently to render him certain.

While lying much hurt within a few yards of his dead friend, towards nightfall a female enveloped in a cloak approached the spot, and hastily stooped over the body of the slain Captain, seemingly with intent to plunder. Raising himself upon his elbow with the intention of shooting the disturber of his friend with his only remaining pistol, the Colonel beheld a male figure, which his long experience at once detected as a wretch of the worst description, join the party. High words, an imploring prayer, and, finally, a desperate struggle for possession of the body ensued, ending in the female falling under the repeated stabs from the long knife of the assassin. As the murdered woman carried none of those marks about her which distinguish the habitual robber of the dead, the sad inference was drawn that Mrs. Captain Racquet had sought the body of her husband after the action, and had thus miserably perished.

We will not, however, dwell upon the sadder and long by-gone portions of our history, but address ourselves to the more immediate and brighter side, holding it as a maxim, that he who weeps because it rained yesterday, stands a very fair chance of losing the sunshine of to-day : sufficient for the day be the evil thereof ; grief for the past should not poison the present, or call forth a fear for the future. Tom's introduction to the Whittleburys was a little singular, rather out of the routine usually observed upon such grave ceremonies and occasions. Tom was caught one fine moonshiny night wrenching off Old Whittlebury's knocker, by no less a personage than Old Whittle bury himself, and forthwith, by a sturdy box on the ear, precipitated off the three little steps which led to the hall-door over the scraper into the gaping jaws of the kitchen area, from which he rolled — the lower part of the kitchen window being open — on to the dresser, and from thence into the kitchen, much to the discomfiture of Susan, the housemaid, who had taken the opportunity of the family's absence for the evening to admit her sweetheart Jerry to a little confidential tete-a-tete and cold mutton.

Susan was sitting upon the knee of this favoured individual when Mr. Thomas Racquet suddenly plumped into the area, rolled out of that, and, as we have already intimated, made a temporary stage of the dresser, and then blundered upon all fours into the kitchen, with the knocker in his hand, looking very much like a detected Tom cat upon a cream-stealing expedition ; — if he had happened to have been fitted up with a tail like that interesting animal, wonderful would have been the size thereof. If the dome of St. Paul's had been a wine-bottle, Tom's tail would have been large enough for the bottle brush, so enormous was the degree of surprise into which he was thrown by his sudden and involuntary descent into thc regions below. Tom's surprise, however, was as nothing compared with that which seized upon the faculties of the loving Susan and her faithful Jerry.

A gentleman walking suddenly into a room in the usual manner when b2 another gentleman and lady are chatting over their own peculiar little love affairs, is allowed on aU hands to be annoying enough; but when it comes to a flying leap in at the window, armed with a cast-iron wreath of laurel, and without a hat, it is, to say the least of it, as much more annoying as it is without precedent. " What were you at, you young rascal ?" shouted Old Whittlebury down the kitchen area as soon as Tom had completed his somewhat perilous descent. " Susan ! Susan ! hit him on the head with the poker till I come down !" And the old gentleman fumbled furiously in his waistcoat pocket for his latch-key, and called aloud for the watchman ; but as the watchman was asleep round the corner, of course it was not to be expected that he could hear anything ; so Old Whittlebury unlocked the street-door and entered his dwelling, determined to take the rascal into custody all by himself.

Now as soon as Susan had in some degree recovered from the ' flusteration ' into which the entry of the strange gentleman with the knocker in his hand had thrown her, and her sweetheart had applied the back of his hand once or twice to his nose — for Susan, in the start with which she had risen from his knee had driven her elbow violently against that ornamental outwork of his visage, drawing from thence a few drops of that 'regal purple stream,' so much talked about by the gentlemen of the fancy — no sooner, do we say, had she recovered a Uttle from her surprise, than she essayed to in terrogate the gentleman upon all fours, whether he were an angel or a goblin in an uncomfortable predicament, when all her attempts at solving the mystery were put into inextricable confusion by the opening of the street-door, and the fierce entry of her master.

" Run ! run !" said Susan to her sweetheart — (followers were not allowed at Mr. Whittlebury's) — "there's Master up stairs, cut out at the back-door — make haste before he gets in !" But the individual thus addressed, at no time remarkable for a quick apprehension, was so completely confounded between the sudden appearance of the gentleman from the area, the knock on the nose, the consequent bleeding thereof, and the bawling and bullying of Old Whittlebury to " hit him on the head with the poker," that he lost the only minute allowed him for escape, and, despite the scufflin° and imploring of his dearly beloved Susan, stood stock still with amazement. Old Whittlebury's boots creaked rapidly along the passage, and down the kitchen stairs. No time was to be lost. Tom Racquet heard them, and, springing to his feet in an instant, rushed up to the bewildered Jerry, and thrust the street-door knocker into his ■ hand.

"Here, hold this, there's a good fellow," said Tom ; and before the ' good fellow ' had brought his elevated eye-brows down to their proper places, Tom had scrambled back again through the window, and old Whittlebury had entered the kitchen. " You rascal !" shouted the irate old gentleman, darting furiously upon Jerry, " I'll teach you to steal my knocker, you ragamuffin ! I'll give you two months for it, you incorrigible vagabond ! This is the third knocker within these ten days ! But you shall have it now I have caught you — you shall have it ! " '"Knockers, sir!" said the bewUdered lover of Susan, with a stare of unmitigated astonishment. " Yes, knockers, sir !" roared Old Whittlebury in reply. " Oh, you need not put on such a look of virtuous surprise ; it won't do with me — it won't do with me : you rascal, I'll punish you !

" " I didn't steal any knockers, sir !" stuttered poor Jerry. "Why, you lying varlet," interrupted his accuser; "you have the knocker in your hand at this present moment." Jerry dropped the iron laurel wreath as if it had suddenly become red hot between his fingers, and favoured old Mr. Whittlebury with another stupified stare, if possible of more intensity than the former. " Come along, you scoundrel ; I'll give it you !" said Old Whittle bury, laying violent hands upon the smart coat-collar of his aU but petrified victim, and dragging him impetuously to the foot of the stairs. "Push behind, Susan, can't you?" continued the old gentle man, almost out of breath, finding that his prisoner refused the ascent. "Push behind, wiU you?" but Susan's time for bewilderment had arrived, and so she stood with her arms extended like a tragedy queen in a subUme fit of the heroics — the one pointing to the area through which Tom Racquet had just made his hasty exit, and with the other attitudenizing as if she wished to solicit the attention of her Master and Jerry, who were scuffling at the foot of the kitchen stairs.

But vainly she tried to make herself understood ; wi >rds were formed upon her tongue, it is true; but like many other friends in need, the moment they found that they were particularly wanted, they took unto themselves wings and vanished. In the meantime, Old Whittle bury pushed, and pulled, and swore his wig off, and got exceedingly warm and exasperated, without forcing his prisoner up a single step. " Run, Susan, run, and fetch the watchman !" panted her Master. " I'll secure the villain down here until you return." Just at this moment a rattling peal of the door-bell announced a visiter. " Help ! help ! help !" shouted the old gentleman with re newed vigour, giving the unfortunate Jerry a tremendous tug at each exclamation. Again the door-beU rattled as if it had caught some of the nervous excitement of its master.

" Run, Susan, run ! don't you hear the bell? what the devU do you stand staring that way for?" continued the old gentleman. Away scampered Susan, scarcely knowing why or wherefore, squeezing past the panting pair at the foot of the stairs. The hall was cleared at a bound, and the street-door flung open in a twinkling ; when, in the bright starlight of a midsummer's night, she beheld Mr. Thomas Racquet, who had made his way up agaiu, and was looking as cool as a cucumber, and smiling as if a roU down an area was a very pleasant and every day occurrence — without his hat, and all over whitewash. *' Is your Master at home, my dear ?" said Tom in the blandest manner possible. " N — no, — that is, yes, sir; but he's engaged," replied Susau, all in a twitter, and not exactly seeing to whom she was addressing herself.

" Engaged — confound it ! I am engaged with a vengeance !" cried Old Whittlebury, who had been listening in hopes of recognizing the voice of some friend. " Here, come and help me, pray, whoever you are!" Tom moved into the passage. " Thieves ! thieves ! murder !" shouted Susan when thc light of the hall-lamp, falling full upon Mr. Thomas Racquet, revealed to her the form and features of her mysterious visiter. "Where? — where? — where?" bawled Tom in reply, and in no way disconcerted by Susan's reception, he rushed past her, and pro ceeded across the hall. " Here !— here !— down here!" cried the voice of Old Whittlebury from the regions below ; so down stairs ran Mr. Thomas Racquet to where Jerry and his relentless captor were still struggling for the mastery. " Devilish glad to see you," said the old gentleman as Tom made his appearance, " I am almost spent with holding the ruffian."

" What has he done ?" said Tom. " Been robbing the house, I suppose — the rascal !" A. DESCENT INTO THE LOWER REGIONS . LorbdorU PuSUeshecC by zJ.JTqw, eJUrze-. .7.1844- . "No, no! the knocker — the knocker! Stolen three knockers within these ten days !" gasped Old Whittlebury, reUnquishing his hold of Jerry's collar and picking up his wig. " Oh, the vagabond !" said Tom, seizing the stuttering Jerry, and at the same time contriving to put out the light which Susan had left upon the stairs. " I'U teach you to steal the gentleman's knocker, you rascal, you ! and you would not go up stairs, wouldn't you, when the gentleman asked you? We'U soon see whether you will or no. Get through that door, while the gentleman fetches another light," and Tom pushed his captive through the door back again into the kitchen.

"Hold him fast!— hold him fast!" said Old Whittlebury, the broken tone of whose voice bore ample testimony to the violence of the struggle in which he had been engaged. " I'U soon have a light, it's only up stairs." And away he flew to where a plaster statue of a young lady, without a waistcoat, was supporting a glass shade con taining the hall-light. " You fool !" said Tom to the hopelessly stupified Jerry as soon as Mr. Whittlebury had disappeared. " Don't you see? — don't you know me again ? Out of the window — fly ! Become scarce ! — away with you ! I'll make it aU right with the old gentleman as soon as you are gone ;" and Tom pushed him toward the kitchen-window, and tumbled him all of a heap into the area, crying, " Stop him ! — stop him !" with all his might. Jerry all at once caught a glimpse of the intention, and shot himself away with the rapidity of lightning.

Tom capsized the table with a tray of glasses upon it in an instant, and sprang into the area in seeming pursuit of the culprit, still shouting, " Stop him ! — stop him !" at the top of his voice. " Confound the feUow," said Tom from the area, as Old Whittle bury entered with thc glass shade and candle iu his hand, which the plaster young lady had obstinately refused for some minutes to have unscrewed from her fist, thereby detaining the old gentleman a sufficient length of time from the scene of action to aUow of the escape of Jerry, and the subsequent pantomimic manœuvres of the politic Tom — all as aforesaid. " Now, then, where is he ?" said the old gentleman running his gouty toe, in his extreme haste, against the knocker which stiU lay where it had been dropped by the fugitive. " Confound him !" said Tom, getting with seeming difficulty from the area.

" He has got clean away — never saw such a resolute ruffian in my life! Torn my coat, and given me an ugly thump of the head into the bargain." (Tom's head was bleeding from his fall.) " Why the devil didn't you come and help me when you heard me caUing? I shouted as loudly as I could." " Sorry you let him go any how," groaned Old Whittlebury, partly from disappointment and partly from the pain in his toe. "Con foundedly sorry you let him go; that's the third knocker this week. If ever I do catch him again, if I don't skin him ;" and the old gentle man doubled his fists, and shook them fiercely in attestation of thc ferocity of his intentions. " But you are hurt, my dear sir — you are hurt," continued the old gentleman as Tom's bleeding face caught his eye. " Here, Susan, run up stairs to my room and bring down the balsam and a towel and water ; don't stand staring, but make haste."

Susan, who was still at the foot of the stairs too much bewildered to make anything of the sudden changes which had taken place, started off by the force of discipline to obey her Master's behest, and pre sently returned with the articles in question — except the balsam. " Cannot find the balsam, sir," said Susan addressing her Master, and staring with all her eyes at Tom, who was deliberately shaking the whitewash from his clothes. " Why it's on the mantel-shelf in my room ; — no, perhaps it is in the closet. I'll go myself — hand the gentleman the water;" and away went Old Whittlebury in search of the missing article, leaving Susan and the knight of the knocker confronted. " Don't be frightened, my good girl," began Tom in one of his most insinuating tones, taking Susan's hand and dexterously slipping half a sovereign therein.

" Don't be frightened : your sweetheart has escaped, and so shall I if you remain quiet — there's nothing to fear ; I shall not rob the house of anything, unless it be your own pretty self." " I'm sure, sir— if I thought," commenced Susan — but the sound of her Master's footsteps, and an admonitory "Whisht!" from Tom settled the matter, and Susan was silent. Tom was balsamed, and brushed, and washed ; and not only stayed there to supper that night, but became a regular visiter of the family in less than a month after ; and what was very remarkable no more knockers were stolen in the neighbourhood— a fact which was attri buted by Tom to the prowess and presence of mind displayed by Mr. Whittlebury in giving the robber such an unexpectedly warm reception ; and by Old Whittlebury himself to the severe thrashing he had received from the hands of Tom before he contrived to effect his escape from the kitchen area.

Upon Tom's introduction to Old Whittlebury's supper-table shortly after all this bustle and excitement, his eyes were most agreeably re freshed by the sight of a young lady, who, between her blushing at him and her trembling for the safety of her Papa, presented a most delightful picture to his ardent imagination. The tearful anxiety she evinced as she brushed some of the marks of the recent conflict from the old gentleman's coat, and the way in which she threw her affectionate arms round his neck and gave him a warm-hearted little kiss, were perfectly irresistible and exceedingly tantalizing. Tom quite envied the old gentleman, and felt more than half inclined to defy him to mortal combat upon the spot ; but remembering that it would not perhaps be quite proper under the circumstances, turned his head, and walked towards the window so as not to interfere with these little family lovings any more than he could help.

Tom was just thinking what a pleasant thing it would be to have a dear little arm thrown round his own neck, and a pair of beautiful bright eyes beaming with affection, looking light and love into his very heart, when the report of another kiss brought him, in spite of himseff, to the right about-face all in a hurry. Tom felt irritated again. Mr. Whittle bury had returned his daughter's salute most uproariously loud, and was leading her to her seat, but the feeUng of irritation lasted not long. Thc subsequent ceremony of introduction to the young lady, and the graceful manner in which she performed the duties of the table, soon put all feelings, except admiration, to flight ; — and that was the way Tom Racquet became acquainted with the Whittleburys.

Chapter II. Of The Whittleburys

After such a romantic introduction as that described in the last Chapter, nothing less of course was to be expected, than that Tom should fall most irretrievably in love with Miss Caroline Whittlebury, the young lady of the mansion, and that the young lady herself, finding such a handsome young fellow such a decided hero, should not only allow him so to do, but should return the compliment with all that truth and fervour which belongs, according to the best authorities,— the young ladies themselves — exclusively to thc female heart. This was all very proper, and very natural, and just as it should have been, and there is not a word to be said against it : in fact, after very mature aud serious consideration, aided by several young-lady friends of our acquaintance, we have arrived at the conclusion, that this world would be but a very stupid world indeed, take it altogether, were it not for an occasional hero or heroine (persecuted of course) starting forth to Ulumine its dreary rounds with their brilliant achievements, and melt its flinty nature with their tears, not to mention the decided good that always necessarily accrues to society at large by their furnishing us " wes," or editors, with so many subjects for our true love tales aud romances.

We therefore take upon ourselves to say, backed by our fair friends already mentioned, that Tom was perfectly right in faUing in love with Caroline Whittlebury, although all three of his maiden Aunts decided on the contrary in the most peremptory and distressing manner possible, and that Carohne, despite all her worthy Papa's doubts of the eligibiUty of the match, was equaUy justified in accepting Master Thomas Racquet's vows of eternal attachment and affection, instead of those of one Mister Horace Chuck, second partner in the firm of " Whittlebury and Chuck." Mr. Erasmus Whittlebury, the only exception among the shy papas of Tom's numerous acquaintance, was a widower, and a smart active old gentleman, with just that degree of obesity usually classed under the somewhat comical title of ' punchy,' that is to say, he was not decidedly fat ; we verily believe that he would have quarrelled with anybody who might happen to have the misfortune of supposing him to be so.

He had a very small, very round, very fair face, in which good humour reigned predominant ; he had also lost his hair, — this, however, was considered rather as an improvement than otherwise to his general appearance, by more than one efficient judge of such momentous concerns. And to let our readers into a little bit of a secret, perhaps the smart old gentleman was just in a slight degree proud of his " nice httle round white pate," as his favourite Caroline would often call it — with the two tufts of hair, silvery white, just over his ears, and the two little well-trimmed cultivations, yclept whiskers, wliich flourished on his rosy cheeks. Caroline, the daughter of the above-mentioned Mr. Whittlebury, was an -extremely good-natured little personage, and ' beautiful ex ceedingly,' as aU good-natured people invariably are, or seem to be, after a few hours' acquaintance.

She loved fun with all her Uttle heart, and somehow or other contrived to love Mr. Thomas Racquet into the bargain : at least we take it for granted she was beautiful, not only from Tom's repeated asseverations to the fact, but from thc report of many other most intelligent witnesses — Old Dame Polkstoue, for instance, of the Dairy, for one, who used to say, " God bless her dear little soul! it's always peeping out of her eyes, to see what good it can do" — and then there was Mr. Drayton, the curate, who used to call her the "flower of his flock," and say she was a very amiable young lady — and Old Bob, the gardener and man-of-aU-work, who did not mince the matter in the least, but swore boldly, " that Miss Carry was the best and beautifuUest little girl in the whole world," and very handsomely cracked the crown of Bill Stubbs, the ostler at the Blue Pig, for daring to insinuate that Nancy Twentyman, the inn keeper's daughter, was equaUy as amiable and as pretty.

The interior of the little cottage at Stamford Hill was the very picture of comfort and elegance, under the tasteful management of the young lady ; and the garden at the back, under the control of Old Bob, was the very ne plus ultra of gardens ; and there was a taU grey horse who rejoiced in the name of ' Stately,' but who did not rejoice in the four-wheeled chaise notwithstanding, and who was under the surveil lance of the old gentleman himself; and doves and pigeons innu merable, besides a great dog for the stable, and a peacock for the lawn, under the care of everybody. Among all these little comforts and delights had Mr. Thomas Racquet, as we have already related, made himself perfectly at home, not, however, without some little uneasiness on the part of Mr. Erasmus Whittlebury, who soon began to perceive that his agreeable young friend cast his eyes in the direction of Miss Caroline rather more frequently than mere acquaintance warranted ; while Carohne, not a little to his dismay, seemed not at all displeased at the attentions thus freely bestowed.