"For Heaven's sake, Aunt, don't draw a crowd around us," said Lucy,
who, indeed, was glad of the only escape that lay in her power. "I
will tell you of the--of the circumstances of--of my engagement with
this gentleman--with Mr. Perkins," added she, in a softer tone--so
soft that the 'ERKINS was quite inaudible.

"A Mr. What? An engagement without consulting your guardians!"
screamed her Ladyship. "This must be looked to! Jerningham, call
round my carriage. Mademoiselle, you will have the goodness to walk
home with Master Gorgon, and carry him, if you please, where there
is wet; and, girls, as the day is fine, you will do likewise.
Jerningham, you will attend the young ladies. Miss Gorgon, I will
thank you to follow me immediately." And so saying, and looking at
the crowd with ineffable scorn, and at Mr. Perkins not at all, the
lady bustled away forwards, the files of Gorgon daughters and
governess closing round and enveloping poor Lucy, who found herself
carried forward against her will, and in a minute seated in her
aunt's coach, along with that tremendous person.

Her case was bad enough, but what was it to Perkins's? Fancy his
blank surprise and rage at having his love thus suddenly ravished
from him, and his delicious tete-a-tete interrupted. He managed, in
an inconceivably short space of time, to conjure up half-a-million
obstacles to his union. What should he do? he would rush on to
Baker Street, and wait there until his Lucy left Lady Gorgon's
house.

He could find no vehicle in the Regent's Park, and was in
consequence obliged to make his journey on foot. Of course, he
nearly killed himself with running, and ran so quick, that he was