rembling, almost
illegible hand, and the other had a deep black edge to it--it was to
this one he referred, and then folding it up again and replacing them
both in the pocket-book, he turned to the boy and said,--

"No. Five, boy--but stay, I want a lodging first; I must leave my box
somewhere before I go out visiting."

"No. Five--and here be lodgings to let," said the boy with a grin.

"The very thing," said the old farmer, rubbing his hands; and then he
added to himself, "Now I can watch the state of things quietly, without
saying anything to anybody; I'll see what these folks are made of."

He knocked at the door and it was opened by a tidy little girl, whose
face would have been pretty if the fresh air of the country had brought
the roses into it; at least so Farmer Shipton thought, as she dropped a
courtesy to him.

"Lodgings to let here?" he inquired in his own gruff, surly tone.

"Yes, sir."

"Got a room that would do me?"

"Yes, sir; I think so."

"Mother at home, girl, or your missus?"

"Mother is, sir; will you please to walk inside?"

"Put down the box, lad, and here's your sixpence;--shameful charge to
make; why, in the part I come from, a bigger lad than you would have got
no more for a whole day's work; but it's my belief this London is made
up of thieves and fools! Here's a staircase dark as midnight! Why, they
say country folks come to town to be _enlightened_--but it doesn't seem
much like it! Thieves and fools--thieves and fools. Thieves to do the
fools, and fools to be done by the thieves!" Thus grumbling, he got up
the first flight of stairs, and paused at a door which the little girl
who guided him opened. And here _we_ must pause for a moment, just to
say that Farmer Shipton, for reasons best known to himself, dropped his
name outside the door, and entered that room as Mr. Smith.

A middle-aged woman, dressed in rather rusty black, and wearing a
widow's cap, stood up as he appeared, and laid down some very fine
needlework, which she was engaged upon. A girl about a year younger than
the little maiden who had opened the door, was sitting on a low stool by
her mother's side, cutting out a paper-pattern; and a boy of about nine
years old was stretched on the rag-mat fast asleep. The room was
scrupulously neat, but very poorly furnished; and the old farmer looked
round keenly as he stood on the threshold. "Hum!" he said to himself,
"no extravagance here, most certainly!" but aloud he sai