Having drawn this awful picture of the perils of matrimony, Mr. Roundjacket paused and smiled.  Verty looked puzzled.

“You seem to think it is very dreadful,” said Verty; “are you afraid of women, sir?”

“No, I am not, sir!  But I might very rationally be.”

“Anan?”

“Yes, sir, very reasonably; the fact is, you cannot be a lady’s man, and have any friends, without being talked about.”

Verty nodded, with a simple look, which struck Mr. Roundjacket forcibly.

“Only utter a polite speech, and smile, and wrap a lady’s shawl around her shoulders—­flirt her fan, or caress her poodle—­and, in public estimation, you are gone,” observed the poet; “the community roll their eyes, shake their heads, and declare that it is very obvious—­that you are so far gone, as not even to pretend to conceal it.  Shocking, sir!”

And Roundjacket chuckled.

“It’s very wrong,” said Verty, shaking his head; “I wonder they do it.”

“Therefore, keep away from the ladies, my young friend,” added Roundjacket, with an elderly air—­“that is the safest way.  Get some snug bachelor retreat like this, and be happy with your pipe.  Imitate me, in dressing-gown and slippers.  So shall you be happy!”

Roundjacket chuckled again, and contemplated the cornice.

At the same moment a carriage was heard to stop before the door, and the poet’s eyes descended.

“I wonder who comes to see me,” he said, “really now, in a chariot.”

Verty, from his position, could see through the window.

“Why, it’s the Apple Orchard chariot!” he said, “and there is Miss Lavinia!”

At this announcement, Mr. Roundjacket’s face assumed an expression of dastardly guilt, and he avoided Verty’s eye.

“Lavinia!” he murmured.

At the same moment a diminutive footman gave a rousing stroke with the knocker, and delivered into the hands of the old woman, who opened the door, a glass dish of delicacies such as are affected by sick persons.

With this came a message from the lady in the carriage, to the effect, that her respects were presented to Mr. Roundjacket, whose sickness she had heard of.  Would he like the jelly?—­she was passing—­would be every day.  Please to send word if he was better.

While this message was being delivered, Roundjacket resembled an individual caught in the act of felonious appropriation of his neighbors’ ewes.  He did not look at Verty, but, with; a bad assumption of nonchalance, bade the boy thank his mistress, and say that Mr. Roundjacket would present his respects, in person, at Apple Orchard, on the morrow.  Would she excuse his not coming out?

This message was carried to the chariot, which soon afterwards drove away.

Verty gazed after it.

“I say, Mr. Roundjacket,” he observed, at length, “how funny it is for Miss Lavinia to come to see you!”