returned to gossip with her daughter about the
beautiful teeth and whiskers and gold chain of
the distinguished stranger.

"And such a lovely little angel of a child as is
a waitin' for him," the hostess pursued, "his
da'ater, for sure."

"Is her mother with her?" asked Phœbe, the
daughter.

"Her mother!" echoed the landlady in great
disdain. "Do you think, child, such a grand
gentleman would bring his wife here among the
likes of us? No, no, it must be the nuss; for
she's only got on a cotton print dress and an
eight-and-twenty shilling shawl, and her bonnet 'd
be dear at four-and-elevenpence, strings
and all."

"What does he bring her here for, and what
could such a grand gentleman want with four
penn'orth of brandy?" persisted Phœbe, who
was of an inquiring disposition.

''There, go along child, and wash up your
glasses," cried the landlady in a pet: probably
because she too was unable to answer these
questions to her own satisfaction. "It ain't no
business of ours. Maybe he likes brandy, though
the nuss had a pint o' wine and a sweet biscuit,
and paid for it like a lady. Go along, I say, and
don't stand chattering there." Whereupon
Mrs. Landlady, who was somewhat hot of
temper, elbowed her daughter into a small cavern
used as a lavatory for the drinking vessels of the
establishment, and entered into communion with
a piece of chalk and a slate: not, however, being
able to dissociate perturbed cogitations as to
her customers from the otherwise absorbing
occupation of calculating what additions might
be discreetly made to the score of the two
market gardeners, while the one was snoring, and
the other singing a song certainly without beginning,
and seemingly without end.

Meanwhile the object of this conversation had
entered the parlour and made his salutations to
its occupants. These salutations were of a twofold
nature.

"How do you do, Nurse Pigott?" he said,
with an affable nod and a forced smile, to a fubsy
dumpy woman with a very red round face, and for
whose attire the brief but graphic summary given
by the landlady to her daughter will amply suffice.
" All well with you at home, I hope?"

"Nicely, sir, which it also left my husband,
thankin' you kindly, and glory be," responded
the dumpy woman, rising and dropping a
profound reverence. "But oh, sir, Miss Lily have
been a takin' on dreadful."

"What's the matter with her – the little
puss?" exclaimed Blunt, sharply. And this
was his second salutation.

The "little puss" was sitting on the dumpy
woman's knee. Indeed, she was a very little
puss – a tiny fair girl of three years old. She
had very long brown hair curling in thick
profusion round her chubby face. She had very
large wondering blue eyes; but these, on the
present occasion, were red and swollen. Her
whole face was suffused with the moisture of
sorrow. Her little lips were twitching. It was
evident that the "little puss" had been crying
her eyes out.

"Be quiet, miss, and don't be naughty, or I
shall tell Nurse Pigott to give you a whipping,"
said Blunt.

His words were harsh and unfeeling; but
oddly enough his manner was not so. He spoke
less in anger than in the languid tone of an
Indian Begum telling her slave-girl that really,
if she gave her any more trouble, she would be
compelled to have her buried alive. It may be
that he had enjoyed very very little experience
of children, and erroneously imagined that
whipping was the only specific course of treatment
available in the case of tears. At any rate,
the threat had not the desired effect, the
child being evidently aware that Nurse Pigott
was no more likely to execute it than to cut her
head off with a carving-knife. So she began to
cry louder than ever.

"Tut, tut, tut!" Mr. Blunt murmured, pacing
the room in vexation. "Dear me, dear me,
Nurse Pigott, this is very embarrassing, and not
at all fair to me, you know. When I paid your
last month's bill, and told you I was obliged
to take Miss Lily away, I distinctly informed
you there was to be no crying. My nerves can't
stand it, they can't, indeed." But there was
little good in reasoning with Nurse Pigott.

"Oh! sir," she sobbed out, half essaying to
comfort Lily, and half to dry her own eyes with
the corner of her shawl, " I can't help it, I can't
indeed, sir, when I thinks of that there blessed
innocent which I took from the breast, and have
never left, night nor day, for three years Janiwerry,
likewise nursing her through measles and
hoopin'-cough, and all her pretty ways, a pulling of
us all to pieces, and hangin' round us, and my
'usband is a-fond of her as if she was his own,
which we have buried two and the twins being
the one of them that's left is but sickly, and will
never make old bones, which the doctor told me
only last Tuesday was a fortnight, it breaks my
heart, it do, indeed, to part with the little
darling. Oh, sir, let the child bide with us, and
don't take her away."

Griffin Blunt was too well bred to bite his
nails – besides, he had not taken off his gloves;
but he bit his lips, and contracted his brows, and
paced the room more nervously than ever.
"You're a stupid old woman," he muttered,
pettishly.

"I know I am," acquiesced Nurse Pigott, with
a fresh succession of sobs, " and so's my 'usband,
that is in bein' fond of the little cherub, and
glad would he be for us to keep it, though only
a journeyman plasterer, and times is hard as
hard can be."

"She is trying it on for more money, the
old hypocrite!" Mr. Blunt said, internally. " I
told you," he continued aloud, turning to Nurse
Pigott, " that it was absolutely necessary for me
to remove the little girl. I am about to take