"
It was a very happy and very merry party. Mick delighted to
help his guests, and to drink their healths.
"Well," said he when the waiter had cleared away their plates,
and left them to their less substantial luxuries. "Well,"
said Mick, sipping a renewed glass of gin twist and leaning
back in his chair, "say what they please, there's nothing like
life."
"At the Traffords'," said Caroline, "the greatest fun we ever
had was a singing class."
"I pity them poor devils in the country," said Mick; "we got
some of them at Collinson's--come from Suffolk they say; what
they call hagricultural labourers, a very queer lot, indeed."
"Ah! them's the himmigrants," said Caroline; "they're sold out
of slavery, and sent down by Pickford's van into the labour
market to bring down our wages."
"We'll teach them a trick or two before they do that," urged
Mick. "Where are you, Miss Harriet?"
"I'm at Wiggins and Webster's, sir."
"Where they clean machinery during meal-time; that won't do,"
said Mick. "I see one of your partners coming in," said Mick,
making many signals to a person who very soon joined them.
"Well, Devilsdust, how are you?"
This was the familiar appellation of a young gentleman, who
really had no other, baptismal or patrimonial.
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