TALES
FOR
CHRISTMAS EVE.

BY
RHODA BROUGHTON,
AUTHOR OF
“COMETH UP AS A FLOWER,”
ETC., ETC.

LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON.
1873.

[2]

“18, Eccleston Square,
“May 5th.      

“My Dearest Cecilia,

“Talk of the friendships of Orestes andPylades, of Julie and Claire, what are they toours? Did Pylades ever go ventre à terre,half over London on a day more broiling thanany but an âme damnée could even imagine, inorder that Orestes might be comfortably housedfor the season? Did Claire ever hold sweet[4]converse with from fifty to one hundred houseagents, in order that Julie might have threewindows to her drawing-room and a prettyportière? You see I am determined not to bedone out of my full meed of gratitude.

“Well, my friend, I had no idea till yesterdayhow closely we were packed in this greatsmoky bee-hive, as tightly as herrings in abarrel. Don’t be frightened, however. Bydint of squeezing and crowding, we havemanaged to make room for two more herringsin our barrel, and those two are yourself andyour other self, i.e. your husband. Let mebegin at the beginning. After having lookedover, I verily believe, every undesirable residencein West London; after having seen nothingintermediate between what was suitedto the means of a duke, and what was suitedto the needs of a chimney-sweep; after havingfelt bed-ticking, and explored kitchen-rangestill my brain reeled under my accumulated...