"I have had a very particular conversation with Miss Hendy," he said, laying his hand confidentially on the great critic's shoulder.
"An extraordinary woman!" chimed in Bristles, "the glory of the present times."
"I must have an additional treasure to boast of in my house," resumed Mr Pitskiver, whose heart seemed more than ever set on cutting out Mr Whalley in priority of inspection of the unequaled statue. "You'll help me, I know--I may depend on you, Mr Bristles."
"You may indeed, sir--a house such as yours needed only such an addition to make it perfect."
"You'll procure me the pride, the gratification--you'll manage it for me."
"I will indeed," said Mr Bristles, seizing the offered hand of the overjoyed Pitskiver; "since your happiness depends on it, you may trust to me for every exertion."
"And you'll plead my cause--you'll speak in the proper quarter?"
"Certainly, you may consider it all arranged."
"But secretly, quietly, no blabbing--these matters are always best done without noise. I would even keep it from my daughters' knowledge, till we are quite prepared to reveal it in all its charms."
"It is indeed a masterpiece--a chef-d'oeuvre--beauty and expression unequaled."
"I flatter myself I am a bit of a judge; and when I have had it in my possession for a short time, I will let you know the result."
"Them's uncomming pleasant little meetings, arn't them?" said Mr Whalley to one of the middle-aged spinsters who had been present at dinner; "and I thinks this one is like to have a very favourable conclusion."
"Miss Hendy?" enquired the spinster in breathless anticipation.
"Jist so," responded the other--"there can't be no mystery no longer, and they'll be off for France in a few days."
"For France?--gracious! how do you know?"
"I hear'd Mr Bristles, which is their confidant, say something about a chay and Dover. In cooss they will go that way to Boulogne."
Oh, Mæcenas! is there no difference between the chef-d'oeuvre of the great Stickleback, and the town of Dover and a post-chaise.
In a week after these events, six or seven gentlemen were gathered round a table in a room very near the skylight in the Minerva chambers. Our former acquaintance, Mr Bristles, whose name shone in white paint above the entrance door, was evidently strongly impressed with the dignity of his position; and as in the pauses of conversation he placed the pen he was using transversely in his mouth, and turned over the pages of various books on the table before him, it will be seen that he presided not at a feast of substantial meat and drink, but at one of those regular "feasts and flows" which the great Mr Pitskiver was in the habit of alluding to, in describing the intellectual treats of which he was so prodigious a glutton.