The young ones in company were dancing, and the Duchess and the great ladies were all seated, talking to themselves very stately, and working away at the ices and macaroons.  I looked out for my pretty Jemimarann amongst the dancers, and saw her tearing round the room along with Baron Punter, in what they call a gallypard; then I peeped into the circle of the Duchesses, where, in course, I expected to find Mrs. C.; but she wasn’t there!  She was seated at the further end of the room, looking very sulky; and I went up and took her arm, and brought her down to the place where the Duchesses were.  “Oh, not there!” said Jemmy, trying to break away.  “Nonsense, my dear,” says I:  “you are missis, and this is your place.”  Then going up to her ladyship the Duchess, says I, “Me and my missis are most proud of the honor of seeing of you.”

The Duchess (a tall red-haired grenadier of a woman) did not speak.

I went on:  “The young ones are all at it, ma’am, you see; and so we thought we would come and sit down among the old ones.  You and I, ma’am, I think, are too stiff to dance.”

“Sir!” says her Grace.

“Ma’am,” says I, “don’t you know me?  My name’s Cox.  Nobody’s introduced me; but, dash it, it’s my own house, and I may present myself—­so give us your hand, ma’am.”

And I shook hers in the kindest way in the world; but—­would you believe it?—­the old cat screamed as if my hand had been a hot ’tater.  “Fitzurse!  Fitzurse!” shouted she, “help! help!” Up scuffled all the other Dowagers—­in rushed the dancers.  “Mamma! mamma!” squeaked Lady Julia North Pole.  “Lead me to my mother,” howled Lady Aurorer:  and both came up and flung themselves into her arms.  “Wawt’s the raw?” said Lord Fitzurse, sauntering up quite stately.

“Protect me from the insults of this man,” says her Grace.  “Where’s Tufthunt? he promised that not a soul in this house should speak to me.”

“My dear Duchess,” said Tufthunt, very meek.

“Don’t Duchess me, sir.  Did you not promise they should not speak; and hasn’t that horrid tipsy wretch offered to embrace me?  Didn’t his monstrous wife sicken me with her odious familiarities?  Call my people, Tufthunt!  Follow me, my children!”

“And my carriage,” “And mine,” “And mine!” shouted twenty more voices.  And down they all trooped to the hall:  Lady Blanche Bluenose and Lady Max among the very first; leaving only the Field-Marshal and one or two men, who roared with laughter ready to split.

“Oh, Sam,” said my wife, sobbing, “why would you take me back to them? they had sent me away before!  I only asked the Duchess whether she didn’t like rum-shrub better than all your Maxarinos and Curasosos:  and—­would you believe it?—­all the company burst out laughing; and the Duchess told me just to keep off, and not to speak till I was spoken to.  Imperence!  I’d like to tear her eyes out.”

And so I do believe my dearest Jemmy would!