pour forth his love difficulties, to grumble at his military duties
when they interfered with his pleasures, to borrow money from him to
pay his gaming debts.

"He has been with my Lord Marlborough," he cried; "I know he has by his
sober countenance! We are ready to cheer thee up, Roxholm, with the
jolliest story. 'Tis of the new beauty, who is but twelve years old and
has set half the world talking."

"Mistress Clorinda Wildairs of Wildairs Hall in Gloucestershire," put
in Bob Langford, one of the cronies, a black-eyed lad of twenty.
"Perhaps your Lordship has heard of her, since she is so much gossiped
of--Mistress Clorinda Wildairs, who has been brought up half boy by her
father and his cronies, and is already the strappingest beauty in
England."

"He is too great a gentleman to have heard of such an ill-mannered
young hoyden," said Tantillion, "but we will tell him. 'Twas my sister
Betty's letter--writ from Warwickshire--set us on," and he pulled forth
a scrawled girlish-looking epistle from his pocket and spread it on the
table. "Shalt hear it, Roxholm? Bet is a minx, and 'tis plain she is
green with jealousy of the other girl--but 'tis the best joke I have
heard for many a day."

And forthwith Roxholm must sit down and hear the letter read and listen
to their comments thereupon, and their shouts of boyish laughter.

Little Lady Betty Tantillion, who was an embryo coquette of thirteen,
had been to visit her relations in Warwickshire, and during her stay
among them had found the chief topic of conversation a certain mad