as to those remote. The clang and clatter were greater than in any rookery. A song, with the old chorus, "For he 's a jolly good fellow," was vainly tried by little Mr. Bouncer; but, in every sense of the word, failed to produce harmony. Animal spirits were all very well up to a certain point; but, beyond it, degenerated to rude uproar. Throughout song and chorus, Mr. Bulpit and Mr. Smirke obtruded the wrongs they had individually sustained, and utterly refused to act as "jolly good fellows," and shake hands and end their quarrel.
"Now, do be quiet!" cried Effingham, addressing himself to Mr. Bulpit. "One would really imagine, to hear you two talk, that, after the manner of a melodramatic villain of a transpontine theatre, one of you will next say, 'This 'ere hinsult must be wiped out with bel-lood!'"
"Of course it must!" said little Mr. Bouncer, winking in a knowing manner at Effingham, and looking in a significant way to others at the table, in order that they might catch his meaning, and take the hint to carry out the joke; "of course it must! After what has occurred—after the gross personal altercation into which two invited guests of our esteemed host have permitted themselves to engage—I think, gentlemen all, that nothing less will satisfy the demands of the occasion than a duel."
Little Mr. Bouncer's hint was quickly taken, and a chorus of responsive voices was heard. "Of course! an affair of honour's the proper sort of thing!" "Pistols for two, and coffee to follow!" "A duel! a duel!" Mr. Bulpit's countenance fell.
"You 'd wish for satisfaction, would n't you, Smirke?" asked little Mr. Bouncer.
