it hadn't happened, though. I saw her father too hanging about Gervaise's yesterday.

Bill. Clean your boots, sir? Shine 'em till they grin like a Cheshire cat eatin' cheese! Wat. Shine away, you beggar.

Bill (turning up his trousers). I ain't no beggar, sir. Shine for a shiner's fair play. Wat. Do you live in this neighbourhood? Bill. No, sir.

Wat. Where, then?

Bill (feeling where a pocket should be). I don't appear to 'ave a card about me, sir, but my address is Lamb's Court, Camomile Street -leastways I do my sleepin' not far off of it. I've lived there, what livin' I have done, sin' ever I wor anywheres as I knows on.

Wat. Do you happen to know a girl of the name of Pearson?

Bill. No, sir. I can't say as how I rec❜lect the name. Is she a old girl or a young un?

Wat. You young liar! I saw you talking to her not two hours ago!

Bill. Did ye now, sir? That's odd, ain't it? Bless you! I talks to everybody. I ain't proud, sir.

Wat. Well, do you see this? (holding up a sovereign).

Bill. That's one o' them things what don't require much seein', sir. There! Bright as a butterfly! T'other twin, sir!

Wat. I'll give you this, if you'll do something for me and another to that when the thing's done.

Bill. "Tain't stealin', sir?

Wat. No.

Bill. Cos, you see, Mattie

Wat. Who did you say?

Bill. Old Madge as lets the beds at tuppence a short night. 'Tain't stealin', you say, sir?

Wat. What do you take me for? I want you to find out for me where the girl Pearson lives-that's all.

Bill (snatching the sovereign and putting it

in his mouth). Now then, sir!-What's the young woman like ?

Wat. Rather tall-thin-dark hair-large dark eyes and long white hands. Her name's Matilda-Mattie Pearson-the girl you were talking to, I tell you, on this very spot an hour or two ago.

Bill (dropping the sovereign, and stooping to find it). Golly! it is our Mattie!

Wat. Shall you know her again?

Bill. Any boy as wasn't a hass would know his own grandmother by them spots. Besides, I remember sich a gal addressin' of me this mornin'. If you say her it her it was, I'll

detect her for ye.

Wat. There's a good boy! What's your

name?

Bill. Timothy, sir.

Wat. What else?

Bill. Never had no other-leastways as I knows on.

Wat. Well, Timothy-there's the other

sov.-and it's yours the moment you take me to her. Look at it.

Bill. My eye!-Is she a square Moll, sir?
Wat. What do you mean by that?

Bill. Green you are, to be sure! She ain't one as steals, or

Wat. Not she. She's a sempstress-a needlewoman, or something of the sort. Bill. And where shall I find you, sir? Wat. Let me see :-to-morrow night-on the steps of St. Martin's Church-ten o'clock. Bill. But if I don't find her? It week-or a month-or

may

be a

Wat. Come whether you find her or not,

and let me know.

Bill. All serene, sir! There you are, sir! Brush your trousers, sir?

Wat. No; leave 'em.-Don't forget now. Bill. Honour bright, sir! Not if I knows it, sir!

Wat. There's that other skid, you know.
Bill. All right, sir! Anything more, sir?

Wat. Damn your impudence! Get along.
Exit. BILL watches him into MRS. CLIF-

FORD'S.

Bill. Now by all the 'ungry gums of Arabiar, 'ere's a swell arter our Mattie !—A right rig'lar swell! I knows 'em-soverings an' red socks. What's come to our Mattie ? 'Ere's Daddy Longlegs arter her, vith his penny and his blessin'! an' 'ere's this 'ere mighty swell vith his soverings-an' his red socks! An' she's 'ungry, poor gal!-This 'ere yellow-boy?—I ain't got no faith in swells-no more 'n in Daddy Longlegses-I 'ain't! S'posin' he wants to marry her?—Not if I knows it. He ain't half good 'nough for her. Too many quids-goin' a flingin' on 'em about like buttons! He's been a crackin' o' cribs he has. I ain't a goin' to interduce our Mattie to no sich blokes as him. No fathers or lovyers for me says I!—But this here pebble o' Paradise !—What's to be done wi' the cherub? I can't tell her a lie about