At this minute a gentleman on a black horse, with a pale face and a tuft to his chin, came riding up to the carriage; and I knew by a little start that Lady Fanny gave, and by her instantly looking round the other way, that Somebody was come at last.

“Lady Drum,” said he, “your most devoted servant!  I have just been riding with a gentleman who almost shot himself for love of the beautiful Countess of Drum in the year—­never mind the year.”

“Was it Killblazes?” said the lady:  “he’s a dear old man, and I’m quite ready to go off with him this minute.  Or was it that delight of an old bishop?  He’s got a lock of my hair now—­I gave it him when he was Papa’s chaplain; and let me tell you it would be a hard matter to find another now in the same place.”

“Law, my Lady!” says I, “you don’t say so?”

“But indeed I do, my good sir,” says she; “for between ourselves, my head’s as bare as a cannon-ball—­ask Fanny if it isn’t.  Such a fright as the poor thing got when she was a babby, and came upon me suddenly in my dressing-room without my wig!”

“I hope Lady Fanny has recovered from the shock,” said “Somebody,” looking first at her, and then at me as if he had a mind to swallow me.  And would you believe it? all that Lady Fanny could say was, “Pretty well, I thank you, my Lord;” and she said this with as much fluttering and blushing as we used to say our Virgil at school—­when we hadn’t learned it.

My Lord still kept on looking very fiercely at me, and muttered something about having hoped to find a seat in Lady Drum’s carriage, as he was tired of riding; on which Lady Fanny muttered something, too, about “a friend of Grandmamma’s.”

“You should say a friend of yours, Fanny,” says Lady Jane:  “I am sure we should never have come to the Park if Fanny had not insisted upon bringing Mr. Titmarsh hither.  Let me introduce the Earl of Tiptoff to Mr. Titmarsh.”  But, instead of taking off his hat, as I did mine, his Lordship growled out that he hoped for another opportunity, and galloped off again on his black horse.  Why the deuce I should have offended him I never could understand.

But it seemed as if I was destined to offend all the men that day; for who should presently come up but the Right Honourable Edmund Preston, one of His Majesty’s Secretaries of State (as I know very well by the almanac in our office) and the husband of Lady Jane.

The Right Honourable Edmund was riding a grey cob, and was a fat pale-faced man, who looked as if he never went into the open air.  “Who the devil’s that?” said he to his wife, looking surlily both at me and her.

“Oh, it’s a friend of Grandmamma’s and Jane’s,” said Lady Fanny at once, looking, like a sly rogue as she was, quite archly at her sister—­who in her turn appeared quite frightened, and looked imploringly at her sister, and never dared to breathe a syllable.  “Yes, indeed,” continued Lady Fanny, “Mr. Titmarsh is a cousin of Grandmamma’s by the mother’s side:  by the Hoggarty side.  Didn’t you know the Hoggarties when you were in Ireland, Edmund, with Lord Bagwig?  Let me introduce you to Grandmamma’s cousin, Mr. Titmarsh:  Mr. Titmarsh, my brother, Mr. Edmund Preston.”