en, candle
in hand, went downstairs as he had done. Coming to the workshop, she saw
the lamp burning on the forge, and everything as Sim had left it.

'Why I wish I may only have a walking funeral, and never be buried
decent with a mourning-coach and feathers, if the boy hasn't been and
made a key for his own self!' cried Miggs. 'Oh the little villain!'

This conclusion was not arrived at without consideration, and much
peeping and peering about; nor was it unassisted by the recollection
that she had on several occasions come upon the 'prentice suddenly,
and found him busy at some mysterious occupation. Lest the fact of Miss
Miggs calling him, on whom she stooped to cast a favourable eye, a
boy, should create surprise in any breast, it may be observed that she
invariably affected to regard all male bipeds under thirty as mere chits
and infants; which phenomenon is not unusual in ladies of Miss Miggs's
temper, and is indeed generally found to be the associate of such
indomitable and savage virtue.

Miss Miggs deliberated within herself for some little time, looking hard
at the shop-door while she did so, as though her eyes and thoughts were
both upon it; and then, taking a sheet of paper from a drawer, twisted
it into a long thin spiral tube. Having filled this instrument with a
quantity of small coal-dust from the forge, she approached the door,
and dropping on one knee before it, dexterously blew into the keyhole as
much of these fine ashes as the lock would hold. When she had filled it
to the brim in a very workmanlike and skilful manner, she crept upstairs
again, and chuckled as she went.

'There!' cried Miggs, rubbing her hands, 'now let's see whether you
won't be glad to take some notice of me, mister. He, he, he! You'll have
eyes for somebody besides Miss Dolly now, I think. A fat-faced puss she
is, as ever I come across!'

As she uttered this criticism, she glanced approvingly at her small
mirror, as who should say, I thank my stars that can't be said of
me!--as it certainly could not; for Miss Miggs's style of beauty was of
that kind which Mr Tappertit himself had not inaptly termed, in private,
'scraggy.'

'I don't go to bed this night!' said Miggs, wrapping herself in a shawl,
and drawing a couple of chairs near the window, flouncing down upon
one, and putting her feet upon the other, 'till you come home, my lad. I
wouldn't,' said Miggs viciously, 'no, not for five-and-forty pound!'

With that, and wit