consequence of bad nursing, so, if in a mind so
beautiful any moral twist or handiness could be found, Miss Sally
Brass's nurse was alone to blame.

It was on this lady, then, that Mr Swiveller burst in full freshness as
something new and hitherto undreamed of, lighting up the office with
scraps of song and merriment, conjuring with inkstands and boxes of
wafers, catching three oranges in one hand, balancing stools upon his
chin and penknives on his nose, and constantly performing a hundred
other feats with equal ingenuity; for with such unbendings did Richard,
in Mr Brass's absence, relieve the tedium of his confinement. These
social qualities, which Miss Sally first discovered by accident,
gradually made such an impression upon her, that she would entreat Mr
Swiveller to relax as though she were not by, which Mr Swiveller,
nothing loth, would readily consent to do. By these means a friendship
sprung up between them. Mr Swiveller gradually came to look upon her
as her brother Sampson did, and as he would have looked upon any other
clerk. He imparted to her the mystery of going the odd man or plain
Newmarket for fruit, ginger-beer, baked potatoes, or even a modest
quencher, of which Miss Brass did not scruple to partake. He would
often persuade her to undertake his share of writing in addition to her
own; nay, he would sometimes reward her with a hearty slap on the back,
and protest that she was a devilish good fellow, a jolly dog, and so
forth; all of which compliments Miss Sally would receive in entire good
part and with perfect satisfaction.

One circumstance troubled Mr Swiveller's mind very much, and that was
that the small servant always remained somewhere in the bowels of the
earth under Bevis Marks, and never came to the surface unless the
single gentleman rang his bell, when she would answer it and
immediately disappear again. She never went out, or came into the
office, or had a clean face, or took off the coarse apron, or looked
out of any one of the windows, or stood at the street-door for a breath
of air, or had any rest or enjoyment whatever. Nobody ever came to see
her, nobody spoke of her, nobody cared about her. Mr Brass had said
once, that he believed she was a 'love-child' (which means anything but
a child of love), and that was all the information Richard Swiveller
could obtain.

'It's of no use asking the dragon,' thought Dick one day, as he sat
contemplating the features of Miss Sally B