There they are, I shouldn't wonder! Yes indeet! says Mrs Jenkins, 'I hear them talking on the stairs.' A knock at the bedroom door is followed by the entrance of two ladies, apparently mother and daughter; the former a portly and roseate dame, clad in the richest of brocades and white lace shawls--the latter a thin and somewhat yellow damsel, a tired in white and pink bonnet and mantle to match, evidently in bridesmaid's gear.
'Ah I how charming! how beautiful! what a country-flower in London leaves!' exclaim the ladies, rushing up to Netta and kissing her.

'Good morning, Mrs Jenkins, your son has chosen a bewitching young person indeed!' 'Treue for your ladyship,' says Mrs Jenkins, making her very best curtsey, as the ladies alternately shake hands with her.
'Your ladyship' is no less a person than Lady Simpson, the wife of Sir John Simpson, a gentleman who acquired that title on an occasion when William the Fourth, of blessed memory, was feted in the city.

Sir John, having made a considerable fortune in trade, and being blessed with a helpmate of an aspiring mind, has removed from his old neighbourhood to that of Hyde Park, where he is spending the money he earned on the general advancement of his family.

This family consists of a son and daughter, who have been highly educated according to the general acceptation of the term.

With the son Howel is very intimate, and through him he has long been known to the rest of the family; but it is only since his vast accession of wealth that he has had the distinguished honour of claiming Sir John and Lady Simpson as his particular friends.