ds into his pocket. "Why, how thin
you are! What do you mean by it?"

"It ain't my fault."

"Could you eat any bread and meat?" said Dick, taking down his hat.
"Yes? Ah! I thought so. Did you ever taste beer?"

"I had a sip of it once," said the small servant.

"Here's a state of things!" cried Mr. Swiveller, raising his eyes to
the ceiling. "She never tasted it--it can't be tasted in a sip! Why,
how, old are you?"

"I don't know."

Mr. Swiveller opened his eyes very wide, and appeared thoughtful for a
moment; then, bidding the child mind the door until he came back,
vanished straightway.

Presently he returned, followed by the boy from the public house, who
bore in one hand a plate of bread and beef, and in the other a great
pot, filled with some very fragrant compound, which sent forth a
grateful steam, and was indeed choice purl, made after a particular
recipe which Mr. Swiveller had imparted to the landlord at a period
when he was deep in his books and desirous to conciliate his
friendship. Relieving the boy of his burden at the door, and charging
his little companion to fasten it to prevent surprize, Mr. Swiveller
followed her into the kitchen.

"There!" said Richard, putting the plate before her. "First of all,
clear that off, and then you'll see what's next."

The small servant needed no second bidding, and the plate was soon
empty.

"Next," said Dick, handing the purl, "take a pull at that; but
moderate your transports, for you're not used to it. Well, is it
good?"

"Oh! isn't it?" said the small servant.

Mr. Swiveller appeared gratified beyond all expression by this reply,
and took a long draft himself, steadfastly regarding his companion
while he did so. These preliminaries disposed of, he applied himself
to teaching her the game, which she soon learned tolerably well, being
both sharp-witted and cunning.

"Now," said Mr. Swiveller, putting two sixpences into a saucer and
trimming the wretched candle, when the cards had been cut and dealt,
"those are the stakes. If you win you get 'em all. If I win, I get
'em. To make it seem more real and pleasant, I shall call you the
Marchioness, do you hear?"

The small servant nodded.

"Then, Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, "fire away!"

The Marchioness, holding her cards very tight in both hands,
considered which to play, and Mr. Swiveller, assuming the gay and
fashionable air which such society required, took another pull at the
tankard, and w