quiet time, or it might have been through the larger
association of the words with the Redeemer's presence beside the
bedridden; but here her dexterous fingers came to a stop on the
lace-pillow, and clasped themselves round his neck as he bent down.
There was great natural sensibility in both father and daughter, the
visitor could easily see; but each made it, for the other's sake,
retiring, not demonstrative; and perfect cheerfulness, intuitive or
acquired, was either the first or second nature of both. In a very few
moments, Lamps was taking another rounder with his comical features
beaming, while Phoebe's laughing eyes (just a glistening speck or so upon
their lashes) were again directed by turns to him, and to her work, and
to Barbox Brothers.

"When my father, sir," she said brightly, "tells you about my being
interested in other people even though they know nothing about me--which,
by-the-by, I told you myself--you ought to know how that comes about.
That's my father's doing."

"No, it isn't!" he protested.

"Don't you believe him, sir; yes, it is. He tells me of everything he
sees down at his work. You would be surprised what a quantity he gets
together for me every day. He looks into the carriages, and tells me how
the ladies are drest--so that I know all the fashions! He looks into the
carriages, and tells me what pairs of lovers he sees, and what
new-married couples on their wedding trip--so that I know all about that!
He collects chance newspapers and books--so that I have plenty to read!
He tells me about the sick people who are travelling to try to get
better--so that I know all about them! In short, as I began by saying,
he tells me everything he sees and makes out, down at his work, and you
can't think what a quantity he does see and make out."

"As to collecting newspapers and books, my dear," said Lamps, "it's clear
I can have no merit in that, because they're not my perquisites. You
see, sir, it's this way: A Guard, he'll say to me, 'Hallo, here you are,
Lamps. I've saved this paper for your daughter. How is she agoing on?'
A Head-Porter, he'll say to me, 'Here! Catch hold, Lamps. Here's a
couple of wollumes for your daughter. Is she pretty much where she
were?' And that's what makes it double welcome, you see. If she had a
thousand pound in' a box, they wouldn't trouble themselves about her; but
being what she is--that is, you understand," Lamps added, somewhat
hurriedly, "not having