nner, and when he came to
the conclusion he gave a long dismal whistle indicative of surprise and
dismay. After folding and laying it down beside him, he bit the nails
of all of his ten fingers with extreme voracity; and taking it up
sharply, read it again. The second perusal was to all appearance as
unsatisfactory as the first, and plunged him into a profound reverie
from which he awakened to another assault upon his nails and a long
stare at the child, who with her eyes turned towards the ground awaited
his further pleasure.

'Halloa here!' he said at length, in a voice, and with a suddenness,
which made the child start as though a gun had been fired off at her
ear. 'Nelly!'

'Yes, sir.'

'Do you know what's inside this letter, Nell?'

'No, sir!'

'Are you sure, quite sure, quite certain, upon your soul?'

'Quite sure, sir.'

'Do you wish you may die if you do know, hey?' said the dwarf.

'Indeed I don't know,' returned the child.

'Well!' muttered Quilp as he marked her earnest look. 'I believe you.
Humph! Gone already? Gone in four-and-twenty hours! What the devil has
he done with it, that's the mystery!'

This reflection set him scratching his head and biting his nails once
more. While he was thus employed his features gradually relaxed into
what was with him a cheerful smile, but which in any other man would
have been a ghastly grin of pain, and when the child looked up again
she found that he was regarding her with extraordinary favour and
complacency.

'You look very pretty to-day, Nelly, charmingly pretty. Are you tired,
Nelly?'

'No, sir. I'm in a hurry to get back, for he will be anxious while I am
away.'

'There's no hurry, little Nell, no hurry at all,' said Quilp. 'How
should you like to be my number two, Nelly?'

'To be what, sir?'

'My number two, Nelly, my second, my Mrs Quilp,' said the dwarf.

The child looked frightened, but seemed not to understand him, which Mr
Quilp observing, hastened to make his meaning more distinctly.

'To be Mrs Quilp the second, when Mrs Quilp the first is dead, sweet
Nell,' said Quilp, wrinkling up his eyes and luring her towards him
with his bent forefinger, 'to be my wife, my little cherry-cheeked,
red-lipped wife. Say that Mrs Quilp lives five year, or only four,
you'll be just the proper age for me. Ha ha! Be a good girl, Nelly, a
very good girl, and see if one of these days you don't come to be Mrs
Quilp of Tower Hill.'

So far from being sust