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Mrs. Wood was scarcely seated before Mr. Kneebone made his appearance. To her great surprise and mortification he was not alone; but brought with him a couple of friends, whom he begged to introduce as Mr. Jeremiah Jackson, and Mr. Solomon Smith, chapmen, (or what in modern vulgar parlance would be termed bagmen) travelling to procure orders for the house of an eminent cloth manufacturer in Manchester. Neither the manners, the looks, nor the attire of these gentlemen prepossessed Mrs. Wood in their favour. Accordingly, on their presentation, Mr. Jeremiah Jackson and Mr. Solomon Smith received something very like a rebuff. Luckily, they were not easily discomposed. Two persons possessing a more comfortable stock of assurance could not be readily found. Imitating the example of Mr. Kneebone, who did not appear in the slightest degree disconcerted by his cool reception, each sank carelessly into a chair, and made himself at home in a moment. Both had very singular faces; very odd wigs, very much pulled over their brows; and very large cravats, very much raised above their chins. Besides this, each had a large black patch over his right eye, and a very queer twist at the left side of his mouth, so that if their object had been disguise, they could not have adopted better precautions. Mrs. Wood thought them both remarkably plain, but Mr. Smith decidedly the plainest of the two. His complexion was as blue as a sailor’s jacket, and though Mr. Jackson had one of the ugliest countenances imaginable, he had a very fine set of teeth. That was something in his favour. One peculiarity she did not fail to notice. They were both dressed in every respect alike. In fact, Mr. Solomon Smith seemed to be Mr. Jeremiah Jackson’s double. He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. If Mr. Jackson took an accurate survey of the room with his one eye, Mr. Smith’s solitary orb followed in the same direction. When Jeremiah admired the Compasses in the arms of the Carpenter’s Company over the chimney-piece, or the portraits of the two eminent masters of the rule and plane, William Portington, and John Scott, Esquires, on either side of it, Solomon was lost in wonder. When Mr. Jackson noticed a fine service of old blue china in an open japan closet, Mr. Smith had never seen anything like it. And finally, when Jeremiah, having bestowed upon Mrs. Wood a very free-and-easy sort of stare, winked at Mr. Kneebone, his impertinence was copied to the letter by Solomon. All three, then, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter. Mrs. Wood’s astonishment and displeasure momentarily increased. Such freedoms from such people were not to be endured. Her patience was waning fast. Still, in spite of her glances and gestures, Mr. Kneebone made no effort to check the unreasonable merriment of his companions, but rather seemed to encourage it. So Mrs. Wood went on fuming, and the trio went on laughing for some minutes, nobody knew why or wherefore, until the party was increased by Mr. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. Without stopping to inquire into the cause of their mirth, or even to ask the names of his guests, the worthy carpenter shook hands with the one-eyed chapmen, slapped Mr. Kneebone cordially on the shoulder, and began to laugh as heartily as any of them.

Mrs. Wood could stand it no longer.

“I think you’re all bewitched,” she cried.

“So we are, Ma’am, by your charms,” returned Mr. Jackson, gallantly.

“Quite captivated, Ma’am,” added Mr. Smith, placing his hand on his breast.

Mr. Kneebone and Mr. Wood laughed louder than ever.

“Mr. Wood,” said the lady bridling up, “my request may, perhaps, have some weight with you. I desire, Sir, you’ll recollect yourself. Mr. Kneebone,” she added, with a glance at that gentleman, which was meant to speak daggers, “will do as he pleases.”

Here the chapmen set up another boisterous peal.

“No offence, I hope, my dear Mrs. W,” said Mr. Kneebone in a conciliatory tone. “My friends, Mr. Jackson and Mr. Smith, may have rather odd ways with them; but —”

“They have very odd ways,” interrupted Mrs. Wood, disdainfully.

“Our worthy friend was going to observe, Ma’am, that we never fail in our devotion to the fair sex,” said Mr. Jackson.

“Never, Ma’am!” echoed Mr. Smith, “upon my conscience.”

“My dear,” said the hospitable carpenter, “I dare say Mr. Kneebone and his friends would be glad of a little refreshment.”

“They shall have it, then,” replied his better half, rising. “You base ingrate,” she added, in a whisper, as she flounced past Mr. Kneebone on her way to the door, “how could you bring such creatures with you, especially on an occasion like this, when we haven’t met for a fortnight!”

“Couldn’t help it, my life,” returned the gentleman addressed, in the same tone; “but you little know who those individuals are.”

“Lord bless us! you alarm me. Who are they?”

Mr. Kneebone assumed a mysterious air; and bringing his lips close to Mrs. Wood’s ear, whispered, “secret agents from France — you understand — friends to the cause — hem!”

“I see — persons of rank!”

Mr. Kneebone nodded.

“Noblemen.”

Mr. Kneebone smiled assent.

“Mercy on us! Well, I thought their manners quite out o’ the common. And so, the invasion really is to take place after all; and the Chevalier de Saint George is to land at the Tower with fifty thousand Frenchmen; and the Hanoverian usurper’s to be beheaded; and Doctor Sacheverel’s to be made a bishop, and we’re all to be — eh?”

“All in good time,” returned Kneebone, putting his finger to his lips; “don’t let your imagination run away with you, my charmer. That boy,” he added, looking at Thames, “has his eye upon us.”

Mrs. Wood, however, was too much excited to attend to the caution.

“O, lud!” she cried; “French noblemen in disguise! and so rude as I was! I shall never recover it!”

“A good supper will set all to rights,” insinuated Kneebone. “But be prudent, my angel.”

“Never fear,” replied the lady. “I’m prudence personified. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself — I’d never betray him. But why didn’t you let me know they were coming. I’d have got something nice. As it is, we’ve only a couple of ducks — and they were intended for you. Winny, my love, come with me. I shall want you. — Sorry to quit your lord — worships, I mean — I don’t know what I mean,” she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least — “but I’ve a few necessary orders to give below.”

“Don’t mind us, Ma’am,” said Mr. Jackson: “ha! ha!”

“Not in the least, Ma’am,” echoed Mr. Smith: “ho! ho!”

“How condescending!” thought Mrs. Wood. “Not proud in the least, I declare. Well, I’d no idea,” she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, “that people of quality laughed so. But it’s French manners, I suppose.”