The first thing will be to see how she and our little deformed gentleman get along together; for, as I have told you, they sit side by side.  The next thing will be to keep an eye on the duenna,—­the “Model” and so forth, as the white-neckcloth called her.  The intention of that estimable lady is, I understand, to launch her and leave her.  I suppose there is no help for it, and I don’t doubt this young lady knows how to take care of herself, but I do not like to see young girls turned loose in boarding-houses.  Look here now!  There is that jewel of his race, whom I have called for convenience the Koh-i-noor, (you understand it is quite out of the question for me to use the family names of our boarders, unless I want to get into trouble,)—­I say, the gentleman with the diamond is looking very often and very intently, it seems to me, down toward the farther corner of the table, where sits our amber-eyed blonde.  The landlady’s daughter does not look pleased, it seems to me, at this, nor at those other attentions which the gentleman referred to has, as I have learned, pressed upon the newly-arrived young person.  The landlady made a communication to me, within a few days after the arrival of Miss Iris, which I will repeat to the best of my remembrance.

He, (the person I have been speaking of,)—­she said,—­seemed to be kinder hankerin’ round after that young woman.  It had hurt her daughter’s feelin’s a good deal, that the gentleman she was a-keepin’ company with should be offerin’ tickets and tryin’ to send presents to them that he’d never know’d till just a little spell ago,—­and he as good as merried, so far as solemn promises went, to as respectable a young lady, if she did say so, as any there was round, whosomever they might be.

Tickets! presents!—­said I.—­What tickets, what presents has he had the impertinence to be offering to that young lady?

Tickets to the Museum,—­said the landlady.—­There is them that’s glad enough to go to the Museum, when tickets is given ’em; but some of ’em ha’n’t had a ticket sence Cenderilla was played,—­and now he must be offerin’ ’em to this ridiculous young paintress, or whatever she is, that’s come to make more mischief than her board’s worth.  But it a’n’t her fault,—­said the landlady, relenting;—­and that aunt of hers, or whatever she is, served him right enough.

Why, what did she do?

Do?  Why, she took it up in the tongs and dropped it out o’ window.

Dropped? dropped what?—­I said.

Why, the soap,—­said the landlady.

It appeared that the Koh-i-noor, to ingratiate himself, had sent an elegant package of perfumed soap, directed to Miss Iris, as a delicate expression of a lively sentiment of admiration, and that, after having met with the unfortunate treatment referred to, it was picked up by Master Benjamin Franklin, who appropriated it, rejoicing, and indulged in most unheard-of and inordinate ablutions in consequence, so that his hands were a frequent subject of maternal congratulation, and he smelt like a civet-cat for weeks after his great acquisition.