Deep-Laid Plans for Checkmating Mr Bones.  
Now it chanced that the Post-Office Message-boys’ Literary Association had fixed to hold its first grand soirée on the night of the 15th.
 
It was a great occasion. Of course it was held in Pegaway Hall, the shed in rear of Solomon Flint’s dwelling. There were long planks on trestles for tables, and school forms to match. There were slabs of indigestible cake, buns in abundance, and tea, with milk and sugar mixed, in illimitable quantities. There were paper flowers, and illuminated texts and proverbs round the walls, the whole being lighted up by two magnificent paraffin lamps, which also served to perfume the hall agreeably to such of the members and guests as happened to be fond of bad smells.
 
On this particular evening invitations had been issued to several friends of the members of the Association, among whom were Mr Enoch Blurt and Mr Sterling the missionary. No ladies were invited. A spirited discussion had taken place on this point some nights before the soirée, on which occasion the bashful Poker opposed the motion “that invitations should be issued to ladies,” on the ground that, being himself of a susceptible nature, the presence of the fair sex would tend to distract his attention from the business on hand. Big Jack also opposed it, as he thought it wasn’t fair to the fair sex to invite them to a meeting of boys, but Big Jack was immediately called to order, and reminded that the Society was composed of young men, and that it was unmanly—not to say unmannerly—to make puns on the ladies. To this sentiment little Grigs shouted “Hear! hear!” in deafening tones, and begged leave to support the motion. This he did in an eloquent but much interrupted speech, which was finally cut short by Macnab insisting that the time of the Society should not be taken up with an irrelevant commentary on ladies by little Grigs; whereupon Sandy Tod objected to interruptions in general—except when made by himself—and was going on to enlarge on the inestimable blessing of free discussion when he was in turn called to order. Then Blunter and Scroggins, and Fat Collins and Bobby Sprat, started simultaneously to their feet, but were put down by Peter Pax, who rose, and, with a calm dignified wave of his hand, remarked that as the question before the meeting was whether ladies should or should not be invited to the soirée, the simplest plan would be to put it to the vote. On this being done, it was found that the meeting was equally divided, whereupon the chairman—Phil Maylands—gave his casting vote in favour of the amendment, and thus the ladies were excluded from the soirée amid mingled groans and cheers.
 
But although the fair sex were debarred from joining in the festivities, they were represented on the eventful evening in question by a Mrs Square, an angular washer-woman with only one eye (but that was a piercingly black one), who dwelt in the same court, and who consented to act the double part of tea-maker and doorkeeper for that occasion. As most of the decorations and wreaths had been made and hung up by May Maylands and two of her telegraphic friends, there was a pervading influence of woman about Pegaway Hall, in spite of Phil’s ungallant and un-Irish vote.
 
When Tottie Bones arrived at the General Post-Office in search of Peter Pax, she was directed to Pegaway Hall by those members of the staff whose duties prevented their attendance at the commencement of the soirée.
 
Finding the hall with difficulty, she was met and stopped by the uncompromising and one-eyed stare of Mrs Square.
 
“Please, ma’am, is Mr Peter Pax here?” asked Tottie.
 
“Yes, he is, but he’s engaged.”
 
Tottie could not doubt the truth of this, for through the half-open door of the hall she saw and heard the little secretary on his little legs addressing the house.
 
“Please may I wait till he’s done?” asked Tottie.
 
“You may, if you keep quiet, but I doubt if he’ll ’ave time to see you even w’en he is done,” said the one-eyed one, fiercely.—“D’you like buns or cake best?”
 
Tottie was much surprised by the question, but stated at once her decided preference for cake.
 
“Look here,” said Mrs Square, removing a towel from a large basket.
 
Tottie looked, and saw that the basket was three-quarters full of buns and cakes.
 
“That,” said the washer-woman, “is their leavin’s. One on ’em called it the debree of the feast, though what that means is best known to hisself. For one hour by the clock these literairies went at it, tooth an’ nail, but they failed to get through with all that was purwided, though they stuffed themselves to their muzzles.—There, ’elp yourself.”
 
Tottie selected a moderate slab of the indigestible cake, and sat down on a stool to eat it with as much patience as she could muster in the circumstances.
 
Peter Pax’s remarks, whatever else they might have been considered, possessed the virtue of brevity. He soon sat down amid much applause, and Mr Sterling rose to speak.
 
At this point Tottie, who had cast many anxious glances at a small clock which hung in the outer porch or vestibule of the hall, entreated Mrs Square to tell Pax that he was wanted very much indeed.
 
“I durstn’t,” said Mrs Square; “it’s as much as my sitooation’s worth. I was told by Mr Maylands, the chairman, to allow of no interruptions nor anythink of the kind.”
 
“But please, ma’am,” pleaded Tottie, with such an earnest face that the woman was touched, “it’s a matter of—of—life an’ death—at least it may be so. Oh! do-o-o-o tell ’im he’s wanted—by Tottie Bones. Only say Tottie Bo............