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ON HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD 383
Mr. Twysden. Mr. Fearmang—Mr. Fir—Mr. who ? You don't
mean to say you receive that fellow, Mr. Chesham ?
Mr. Chesham. What fellow? and what do you mean, Mr.
What-dy'e-call-'im?
Mr. Twysden. That blackg ________ oh — that is, I — I beg
your ________
Mr. Firmin (entering and going up to Mr. Chesham). I say,
give me a bit of news of to-day. What were you saying about that
—hum and hum and haw—mayn't I have it? (He is talking
confidentially with Mr. Chesham, when he sees Mr. Twysden.)
What ! you have got that little cad here ?
Mr. Lowndes. You know Mr. Twysden, Mr. Firmin. He was
just speaking about you.
Mr. Firmin. Was he ? So much the worse for me.
Mr. Twysden. Sir! We don't speak. You've no right to
speak to me in this manner! Don't speak to me: and I won't
speak to you, sir—there ! Good-morning, Mr. Lowndes! Remember
your promise to come and dine with us when you come
to town. And—one word—(he holds Mr. Lowndes by the button.
By the way, he has very curious resemblances to Twysden senior)—
we shall be here for ten days certainly. I think Lady Estridge
has something next week. I have left our cards, and ________
Mr. Lowndes. Take care. He will be there (pointing to Mr.
Firmin).
Mr. Twysden. What ? That beggar ? You don't mean to say
Lord Estridge will receive such a fellow as _________ Good-bye, goodbye!
(Exit Mr. Twysden.)
Mr. Firmin. I caught that little fellow's eye. He's my cousin,
you know. We have had a quarrel. I am sure he was speaking
about me.
Mr. Lowndes. Well, now you mention it, he was speaking
about you.
Mr. Firmin. Was he ? Then don't believe him, Mr. Lowndes.
That is my advice.
Mr. Hely (at his desk composing). "Maiden of the blushing*.
cheek, Maiden of the—oh, Charlotte, Char ________ " he bites his pen
and dashes off rapid rhymes on Government paper.
Mr. Firmin. What does he say ? He said Charlotte.
Mr. Lowndes. He is always in love and breaking his heart, and
he puts it into poems ; he wraps it up in paper, and falls in love
with somebody else. Sit down and smoke a cigar, won't you ?
Mr. Firmin. Can't stay. Must make up my letter. We print
to-morrow.
Mr. Lowndes. Who wrote that article pitching into Peel ?