cidental
outgoings, leaving the profits of the shop as the clear income of the
occupiers. And no doubt with clever young people to manage the shop, its
profits might be increased.

Not thinking it necessary to return at present to Mrs. Bawtrey's, Kenelm
now bent his way to Tom Bowles's.

The house-door was closed. At the summons of his knock it was quickly
opened by a tall, stout, remarkably fine-looking woman, who might have
told fifty years, and carried them off lightly on her ample shoulders.
She was dressed very respectably in black, her brown hair braided simply
under a neat tight-fitting cap. Her features were aquiline and
very regular: altogether there was something about her majestic and
Cornelia-like. She might have sat for the model of that Roman matron,
except for the fairness of her Anglo-Saxon complexion.

"What's your pleasure?" she asked, in a cold and somewhat stern voice.

"Ma'am," answered Kenelm, uncovering, "I have called to see Mr. Bowles,
and I sincerely hope he is well enough to let me do so."

"No, sir, he is not well enough for that; he is lying down in his own
room, and must be kept quiet."

"May I then ask you the favour to let me in? I would say a few words to
you, who are his mother if I mistake not." Mrs. Bowles paused a moment
as if in doubt; but she was at no loss to detect in Kenelm's manner
something superior to the fashion of his dress, and supposing the visit
might refer to her son's professional business, she opened the door
wider, drew aside to let him pass first, and when he stood midway in
the parlour, requested him to take a seat, and, to set him the example,
seated herself.

"Ma'am," said Kenelm, "do not regret to have admitted me, and do not
think hardly of me when I inform you that I am the unfortunate cause of
your son's accident."

Mrs. Bowles rose with a start. "You're the man who beat my boy?"

"No, ma'am, do not say I beat him. He is not beaten. He is so brave
and so strong that he would easily have beaten me if I had not, by good
luck, knocked him down before he had time to do so. Pray, ma'am, retain
your seat and listen to me patiently for a few moments."

Mrs. Bowles, with an indignant heave of her Juno-like bosom, and with
a superbly haughty expression of countenance which suited well with its
aquiline formation, tacitly obeyed.

"You will allow, ma'am," recommenced Kenelm, "that this is not the first
time by many that Mr. Bowles has come to blows with an