to be got for fourpence, at present, when
provisions is so dear."

"True indeed," I remarked. I had been looking about the room, admiring
its snug fireside at the upper end, its glimpse of the street through the
low mullioned window, and its beams overhead. "It is very comfortable,"
said I.

"Ill-conwenient," observed the matronly presence.

I liked to hear her say so; for it showed a commendable anxiety to
execute in no niggardly spirit the intentions of Master Richard Watts.
But the room was really so well adapted to its purpose that I protested,
quite enthusiastically, against her disparagement.

"Nay, ma'am," said I, "I am sure it is warm in winter and cool in summer.
It has a look of homely welcome and soothing rest. It has a remarkably
cosey fireside, the very blink of which, gleaming out into the street
upon a winter night, is enough to warm all Rochester's heart. And as to
the convenience of the six Poor Travellers--"

"I don't mean them," returned the presence. "I speak of its being an ill-
conwenience to myself and my daughter, having no other room to sit in of
a night."

This was true enough, but there was another quaint room of corresponding
dimensions on the opposite side of the entry: so I stepped across to it,
through the open doors of both rooms, and asked what this chamber was
for.

"This," returned the presence, "is the Board Room. Where the gentlemen
meet when they come here."

Let me see. I had counted from the street six upper windows besides
these on the ground-story. Making a perplexed calculation in my mind, I
rejoined, "Then the six Poor Travellers sleep upstairs?"

My new friend shook her head. "They sleep," she answered, "in two little
outer galleries at the back, where their beds has always been, ever since
the Charity was founded. It being so very ill-conwenient to me as things
is at present, the gentlemen are going to take off a bit of the
back-yard, and make a slip of a room for 'em there, to sit in before they
go to bed."

"And then the six Poor Travellers," said I, "will be entirely out of the
house?"

"Entirely out of the house," assented the presence, comfortably smoothing
her hands. "Which is considered much better for all parties, and much
more conwenient."

I had been a little startled, in the Cathedral, by the emphasis with
which the effigy of Master Richard Watts was bursting out of his tomb;
but I began to think, now, that it might be expected to come