s aching right arm! Why
was his mouth to be stopped--why might he not tell his shopmates? What
would he not give for the luxury of telling it to the odious Tag-rag? If
he _were_ to do so, Mr. Tag-rag, he was sure, would ask him to dinner
the very next Sunday, at his country house at Clapham!--Ah,
ha!--Thoughts such as these so occupied his mind, that he did not for a
long while observe that he was walking at a rapid rate towards the
Mile-end road, having left Whitechapel church nearly half a mile behind
him! The possible master of L10,000 a-year was nearly dropping with
fatigue, and sudden apprehension of the storm he should have to
encounter when he first saw Mr. Tag-rag after so unduly prolonged an
absence on his errand. He was detained for a cruel length of time at
Messrs. Shuttle and Weaver's; who, not having the exact kind of silk
required by their imperious customer at that moment on their premises,
had some difficulty in obtaining it, after having sent for it to one or
two neighboring manufactories; by which means it came to pass that it
was two o'clock before Titmouse, completely exhausted, had returned to
Tag-rag and Company's. The gentlemen of the shop had finished their
dinners.

"Go up-stairs and get your dinner, sir!" exclaimed Tag-rag, sternly,
after having received Messrs. Shuttle and Weaver's obsequious message of
apologies and hopes.

Titmouse having laid down his heavy bundle on the counter, went
up-stairs hungry enough, and found himself the sole occupant of the long
close-smelling room in which his companions had been recently dining.
His dinner was presently brought to him by a slatternly slipshod
servant-girl. It was in an uncovered basin, which appeared to contain
nothing but the leavings of his companions--a savory intermixture of
cold potatoes, broken meat, (chiefly bits of fat and gristle,) a little
hot water having been thrown over it to make it appear warm and
fresh--(faugh!) His plate (with a small pinch of salt upon it) had not
been cleaned after its recent use, but evidently only hastily smeared
over with a greasy towel, as also seemed his knife and fork, which, in
their disgusting state, he was fain to put up with--the table-cloth on
which he might have wiped them, having been removed. A hunch of bread
that seemed to have been tossing about in the pan for days, and half a
pint of turbid table-beer, completed the fare set before him; opposite
which he sat for some minutes, too much occup