scrubbed 'is corns
too hard. `Right you are, old stumps,' says I, `but you'll have to pay
tuppence farden hextra for that there whack, or be took up for assault
an' battery.' D'you know that gen'leman larfed, he did, like a 'iaena,
an' paid the tuppence down like a man. I let 'im off the farden in
consideration that he 'adn't got one, an' I had no change.--Vell, to
return to the p'int--vich was wot the old toper remarked to his wife
every night--I've bin savin' up of late."

"Saving up, have you?"

"Yes, them penny banks 'as done it. W'y, it ain't a wirtue to be savin'
now-a-days, or good, or that sort o' thing. What between city
missionaries, an' Sunday-schools, an' penny banks, an cheap wittles, and
grannies like this here old sneezer, it's hardly possible for a young
feller to go wrong, even if he was to try. Yes, I've bin an' saved
enough to give me a veek's 'oliday, so I'm goin' to 'ave my 'oliday in
the north. My 'ealth requires it."

Saying this, young Slidder began to eat another muffin with a degree of
zest that seemed to give the lie direct to his assertion, so that I
could not refrain from observing that he did not seem to be particularly
ill.

"Ain't I though?" he remarked, elongating his round rosy face as much as
possible. "That's 'cause you judge too much by appearances. It ain't
my body that's wrong--it's my spirit. That's wot's the matter with
_me_. If you only saw the inside o' my mind you'd be astonished."

"I thoroughly believe you," said I, laughing. "And do you really advise
him to go, granny?"

"Yes, my dear, I do," replied Mrs Willis, in her sweet, though feeble
tones. "You've no idea how he's been slaving and working about me. I
have strongly advised him to go, and, you know, good Mrs Jones will
take his place. She's as kind to me as a daughter."

The mention of the word _daughter_ set the poor creature meditating on
her great loss. She sighed deeply, and turned her poor old eyes on me
with a yearning, inquiring look. I was accustomed to the look by this
time, and having no good news to give her, had latterly got into a way
of taking no notice of it. That night, however, my heart felt so sore
for her that I could not refrain from speaking.

"Ah! dear granny," said I, laying my hand gently on her wrist, "would
that I had any news to give you, but I have none--at least not at
present. But you must not despair. I have failed up to this time, it
is true, although my in