December 30, Sunday.—­Lupin spent the whole day with the Mutlars.  He seemed rather cheerful in the evening, so I said:  “I’m glad to see you so happy, Lupin.”  He answered:  “Well, Daisy is a splendid girl, but I was obliged to take her old fool of a father down a peg.  What with his meanness over his cigars, his stinginess over his drinks, his farthing economy in turning down the gas if you only quit the room for a second, writing to one on half-sheets of note-paper, sticking the remnant of the last cake of soap on to the new cake, putting two bricks on each side of the fireplace, and his general ‘outside-halfpenny-’bus-ness,’ I was compelled to let him have a bit of my mind.”  I said:  “Lupin, you are not much more than a boy; I hope you won’t repent it.”

December 31.—­The last day of the Old Year.  I received an extraordinary letter from Mr. Mutlar, senior.  He writes:  “Dear Sir,—­For a long time past I have had considerable difficulty deciding the important question, ’Who is the master of my own house?  Myself, or your son Lupin?’ Believe me, I have no prejudice one way or the other; but I have been most reluctantly compelled to give judgment to the effect that I am the master of it.  Under the circumstances, it has become my duty to forbid your son to enter my house again.  I am sorry, because it deprives me of the society of one of the most modest, unassuming, and gentlemanly persons I have ever had the honour of being acquainted with.”

I did not desire the last day to wind up disagreeably, so I said nothing to either Carrie or Lupin about the letter.

A most terrible fog came on, and Lupin would go out in it, but promised to be back to drink out the Old Year—­a custom we have always observed.  At a quarter to twelve Lupin had not returned, and the fog was fearful.  As time was drawing close, I got out the spirits.  Carrie and I deciding on whisky, I opened a fresh bottle; but Carrie said it smelt like brandy.  As I knew it to be whisky, I said there was nothing to discuss.  Carrie, evidently vexed that Lupin had not come in, did discuss it all the same, and wanted me to have a small wager with her to decide by the smell.  I said I could decide it by the taste in a moment.  A silly and unnecessary argument followed, the result of which was we suddenly saw it was a quarter-past twelve, and, for the first time in our married life, we missed welcoming in the New Year.  Lupin got home at a quarter-past two, having got lost in the fog—­so he said.

CHAPTER XIV

Begin the year with an unexpected promotion at the office.  I make two good jokes.  I get an enormous rise in my salary.  Lupin speculates successfully and starts a pony-trap.  Have to speak to Sarah.  Extraordinary conduct of Gowing’s.

January 1.—­I had intended concluding my diary last week; but a most important event has happened, so I shall continue for a little while longer on the fly-leaves attached to the end of my last year’s diary.  It had just struck half-past one, and I was on the point of leaving the office to have my dinner, when I received a message that Mr. Perkupp desired to see me at once.  I must confess that my heart commenced to beat and I had most serious misgivings.