all that passion and protest in her, feels when
she hears the Fifth Commandment on a Sunday. I am always inclined to
call out, Church, Count five-and-twenty, Tattycoram.'

Besides his dumb-waiter, Mr Meagles had two other not dumb waiters in
the persons of two parlour-maids with rosy faces and bright eyes, who
were a highly ornamental part of the table decoration. 'And why not, you
see?' said Mr Meagles on this head. 'As I always say to Mother, why
not have something pretty to look at, if you have anything at all?' A
certain Mrs Tickit, who was Cook and Housekeeper when the family were
at home, and Housekeeper only when the family were away, completed the
establishment. Mr Meagles regretted that the nature of the duties in
which she was engaged, rendered Mrs Tickit unpresentable at present,
but hoped to introduce her to the new visitor to-morrow. She was an
important part of the Cottage, he said, and all his friends knew her.
That was her picture up in the corner. When they went away, she always
put on the silk-gown and the jet-black row of curls represented in that
portrait (her hair was reddish-grey in the kitchen), established herself
in the breakfast-room, put her spectacles between two particular leaves
of Doctor Buchan's Domestic Medicine, and sat looking over the blind all
day until they came back again. It was supposed that no persuasion could
be invented which would induce Mrs Tickit to abandon her post at the
blind, however long their absence, or to dispense with the attendance
of Dr Buchan; the lucubrations of which learned practitioner, Mr Meagles
implicitly believed she had never yet consulted to the extent of one
word in her life.

In the evening they played an old-fashioned rubber; and Pet sat looking
over her father's hand, or singing to herself by fits and starts at the
piano. She was a spoilt child; but how could she be otherwise? Who could
be much with so pliable and beautiful a creature, and not yield to her
endearing influence? Who could pass an evening in the house, and not
love her for the grace and charm of her very presence in the room? This
was Clennam's reflection, notwithstanding the final conclusion at which
he had arrived up-stairs.

In making it, he revoked. 'Why, what are you thinking of, my good sir?'
asked the astonished Mr Meagles, who was his partner.

'I beg your pardon. Nothing,' returned Clennam.

'Think of something, next time; that's a dear fellow,' said Mr Meagles.

Pet la