the smell of oil, and wax candles belonged
to my day. I hope the convenient
situation of one of my tall old candlesticks on
the table at my elbow will be my excuse for
saying, that if he did that again, I would chop
his toes with it. (I am sorry to add that
when I told him so, I knew his toes to be
tender.) But, really, at my time of life and
at Jarber's, it is too much of a good thing.
There is an orchestra still standing in the
open air at the Wells, before which, in the
presence of a throng of ine company, I have
walked a minuet with Jarber. But, there is
a house still standing, in which I have worn
a pinafore, and had a tooth drawn by
fastening a thread to the tooth and the door-handle,
and toddling away from the door. And how
should I look now, at my years, in a pinafore,
or having a door for my dentist?

Besides, Jarber always was more or less an
absurd man. He was sweetly dressed, and
beautifully perfumed, and many girls of my
day would have given their ears for him;
though I am bound to add that he never
cared a fig for them, or their advances either,
and that he was very constant to me. For,
he not only proposed to me before my
love-happiness ended in sorrow, but afterwards
too: not once, nor yet twice: nor will we say
how many times. However many they were,
or however few they were, the last time he
paid me that compliment was immediately
after he had presented me with a digestive
dinner-pill stuck on the point of a pin. And
I said on that occasion, laughing heartily,
"Now, Jarber, if you don't know that two
people whose united ages would make about
a hundred and fifty, have got to be old, I do;
and I beg to swallow this nonsense in the
form of this pill," (which I took on the spot),
"and I request to hear no more of it."

After that, he conducted himself pretty
well. He was always a little squeezed man,
was Jarber, in little sprigged waistcoats;
and he had always little legs and a little
smile, and a little voice, and little round-
about ways. As long as I can remember
him he was always going little errands
for people, and carrying little gossip. At
this present time when he called me
"Sophonisba!" he had a little old-fashioned
lodging in that new neighbourhood of mine.
I had not seen him for two or three years,
but I had heard that he still went out with a
little perspective-glass and stood on doorsteps
in Saint James's Street, to see the
nobility go to Court; and went in his little
cloak and goloshes outside Willis's rooms to
see them go to Almack's; and caught the
frightfullest colds, and got himself trodden
upon by coachmen and liukmen, until he
went home to hia landlady a mass of bruises,
and had to be nursed for a month.

Jarber took off his little fur-collared cloak,
and sat down opposite me, with his little cane
and hat in his hand.

"Let us have no more Sophonisbaing, if
you please, Jarber," I said. " Call me Sarah.
How do you do? I hope you are pretty
well."

"Thank you. And you?" said Jarber.

"I am as well as an old woman can
expect to be."

Jarber was beginning:

"Say, not old, Sophon—" but I looked

at the candlestick, and he left off; pretending
not to have said anything.

"I am infirm, of course," I said, " and so
are you. Let us both be thankful it's no
worse."

"Is it possible that you look worried?"
said Jarber.

"It is very possible. I have no doubt it is
the fact."

"And what has worried my Soph—,
soft-hearted friend," said Jarber.

"Something not easy, I suppose, to
comprehend. I am worried to death by a House
to Let, over the way."

Jarber went with his little tip-toe step to
the window-curtains, peeped out, and looked
round at me.

"Yes," said I, in answer: " that house."

After peeping out again, Jarber came back
to his chair with a tender air, and asked:
"How does it worry you, S—arah?"

"It is a mystery to me," said I. " Of course
every house is a mystery, more or less; but,
something that I don't care to mention " (for
truly the Eye was so slight a thing to
mention that I was more than half ashamed of it),
"has made that House so mysterious to me,
and has so fixed it in my mind, that I have
had no peace for a month. I foresee that I
shall have no peace, either, until Trottle
comes to me, next Monday."

I might have mentioned before, that there
is a long-standing jealousy between Trottle
and Jarber; and that there is never any love
lost between those two.

"Trottle" petulantly repeated Jarber, with
a little flourish of his cane; " how is Trottle
to restore the lost peace of Sarah?"

"He will exert himself to find out something
about the House. I have fallen into
that state about it, that I really must
discover by some means or other, good or bad,
fair or foul, how and why it is that that
House remains To Let."

And why Trottle? Why not," putting his
little hat to his heart; " why not, Jarber?"

"To tell you the truth, I have never
thought of Jarber in the matter. And now
I do think of Jarber, through your having
the kindness to suggest him—for which I
am really and truly obliged to you—I don't
think he could do it."

"Sarah!"

"I think it would be too much for you,
Jarber."

"Sarah!"

"There would be coming and going, and
fetching and carrying, Jarber, and you might
catch cold."