ld the things. They have
not yielded quite as much as they might have done, but pretty
well--pretty well. To-day's Tuesday. When shall they be moved?
There's no hurry--shall we say this afternoon?'

'Say Friday morning,' returned the old man.

'Very good,' said the dwarf. 'So be it--with the understanding that I
can't go beyond that day, neighbour, on any account.'

'Good,' returned the old man. 'I shall remember it.'

Mr Quilp seemed rather puzzled by the strange, even spiritless way in
which all this was said; but as the old man nodded his head and
repeated 'on Friday morning. I shall remember it,' he had no excuse
for dwelling on the subject any further, and so took a friendly leave
with many expressions of good-will and many compliments to his friend
on his looking so remarkably well; and went below stairs to report
progress to Mr Brass.

All that day, and all the next, the old man remained in this state. He
wandered up and down the house and into and out of the various rooms,
as if with some vague intent of bidding them adieu, but he referred
neither by direct allusions nor in any other manner to the interview of
the morning or the necessity of finding some other shelter. An
indistinct idea he had, that the child was desolate and in want of
help; for he often drew her to his bosom and bade her be of good cheer,
saying that they would not desert each other; but he seemed unable to
contemplate their real position more distinctly, and was still the
listless, passionless creature that suffering of mind and body had left
him.

We call this a state of childishness, but it is the same poor hollow
mockery of it, that death is of sleep. Where, in the dull eyes of
doating men, are the laughing light and life of childhood, the gaiety
that has known no check, the frankness that has felt no chill, the hope
that has never withered, the joys that fade in blossoming? Where, in
the sharp lineaments of rigid and unsightly death, is the calm beauty
of slumber, telling of rest for the waking hours that are past, and
gentle hopes and loves for those which are to come? Lay death and
sleep down, side by side, and say who shall find the two akin. Send
forth the child and childish man together, and blush for the pride that
libels our own old happy state, and gives its title to an ugly and
distorted image.

Thursday arrived, and there was no alteration in the old man. But a
change came upon him that evening as he and t