Mrs. Flin has got into her new home, and there is quite a rejoicing among her tenants. There is no fear now from Master Sammy's apple-skins and pebbles, and the landlady's bombazine dress has done sweeping its ample folds across Mrs. Bates' floor. You don't catch Mrs. Flin in that vile street any more! She has an agent now to collect her rents for her, and she does not even recognize Nannie, whom she meets walking with little Dora in her arms. She has as much as she can do to keep an account of the number of calls Mrs. Airly has in the course of a day, and to ascertain what stylish-looking young lady is visiting there, and what mustached gentleman it is who raises his eye-glass so gracefully as the three drive past. Then she must stroll forth every morning at a certain hour, which she has learned is etiquettical, with a card-case in her hand, for that is the way Mrs. Airly—who has not wit enough to keep her own counsel—told her she took to give people an idea that she was greatly sought after. Mrs. Flin's time is wholly occupied. It is not strange that she never has an hour to spare Mrs. Bates now. Sammy does not exactly understand it all, and wonders why she pulls him by the hand as they pass Nannie, whispering him not to stop in the street to talk with that girl, when she used to send him up stairs to play with her, as often as she could get him out of her way, when they lived down there.

Captain Flin has returned from sea, and he scarcely knows his own wife, she has grown so grand. He does not feel at home in the new place; and while she walks out with the card-case, he takes his pipe, and goes down to sit on Jerry Doolan's steps and smoke with him, and he goes into the house (Jerry occupies the rooms vacated by the ambitious Mrs. Flin), and sits before the window, with his boots in the seat of it, wishing it was his home still, and that these women wouldn't get such plaguy notions in their heads!

Fie, fie! Captain Flin, will you let the weaker vessel go ahead of you in ambition and enterprise, and you rest content with such humble attainments! Knock the ashes out of your pipe, man, and go up to your own door as if you had always belonged there. What if you do step on the carpets as if they were eggs, and take up every thing as if it were not made to touch, and run to the door every time you hear the bell, as if it were not the maid's place. What if you do insist upon performing your ablutions at the kitchen sink, and using the same towel with the servants, and help yourself of the edibles 'way across the table, though Sally does her best to get your plate so as to wait upon you? Watch your wife, Jerold Flin. Don't you see how easy this gentility sits upon her; and were you not born and bred in as good a station as she? You scorn it all, do you! Notwithstanding, I'll warrant me you'll not know Jerry Doolan this day twelve months! Mark my words!