It chanced that a few evenings previous to my appearance at the house, this indefatigable Caleb was ministering as usual to the various and discrepant wants of the large party assembled in the drawing-room.  With his wonted alacrity he had withdrawn from their obscure retreat against the wall, sundry little tables, destined for the players at whist, or “spoil five”—­the popular game of the establishment.  With a dexterity that savoured much of a stage education, he had arranged the candles, the cards, the counters; he had poked the fire, settled the stool for Miss Riley’s august feet, and was busily engaged in changing five shillings into small silver for a desperate victim of loo—­when Mrs. Clanfrizzle’s third, and, as it appeared, last time, of asking for the kettle smote upon his ear.  His loyalty would have induced him at once to desert every thing on such an occasion; but the other party engaged, held him fast, saying—­

“Never mind her, Peter—­you have sixpence more to give me.”

Poor Peter rummaged one pocket, then another—­discovering at last three pence in copper, and some farthings, with which he seemed endeavouring to make a composition with his creditor for twelve shillings in the pound; when Mrs. Clan’s patience finally becoming exhausted, she turned towards Mr. Cudmore, the only unemployed person she could perceive, and with her blandest smile said,

“Mr. Cudmore, may I take the liberty of requesting you would hand me the kettle beside you.”

Now, though the kettle aforesaid was, as the hostess very properly observed, beside him, yet the fact that in complying with the demand, it was necessary for the bashful youth to leave the recess he occupied, and, with the kettle, proceed to walk half across the room—­there to perform certain manual operations requiring skill and presence of mind, before a large and crowded assembly—­was horror to the mind of the poor Jib; and he would nearly as soon have acceded to a desire to dance a hornpipe, if such had been suggested as the wish of the company.  However, there was nothing for it; and summoning up all his nerve—­knitting his brows —­clenching his teeth, like one prepared to “do or die,” he seized the hissing cauldron, and strode through the room, like the personified genius of steam, very much to the alarm of all the old ladies in the vicinity, whose tasteful drapery benefitted but little from his progress.  Yet he felt but little of all this; he had brought up his courage to the sticking place, and he was absolutely half unconscious of the whole scene before him; nor was it till some kind mediator had seized his arm, while another drew him back by the skirts of the coat, that he desisted from the deluge of hot water, with which, having filled the tea-pot, he proceeded to swamp every thing else upon the tray, in his unfortunate abstraction.  Mrs. Clanfrizzle screamed—­the old ladies accompanied her —­the young ones tittered—­the men laughed—­and, in a word, poor Cudmore,