"Where IS 'there,' Mr. Guppy?" said Richard as we went downstairs.

"No distance," said Mr. Guppy; "round in Thavies Inn, you know."

"I can't say I know where it is, for I come from Winchester and am
strange in London."

"Only round the corner," said Mr. Guppy. "We just twist up
Chancery Lane, and cut along Holborn, and there we are in four
minutes' time, as near as a toucher. This is about a London
particular NOW, ain't it, miss?" He seemed quite delighted with it
on my account.

"The fog is very dense indeed!" said I.

"Not that it affects you, though, I'm sure," said Mr. Guppy,
putting up the steps. "On the contrary, it seems to do you good,
miss, judging from your appearance."

I knew he meant well in paying me this compliment, so I laughed at
myself for blushing at it when he had shut the door and got upon
the box; and we all three laughed and chatted about our
inexperience and the strangeness of London until we turned up under
an archway to our destination--a narrow street of high houses like
an oblong cistern to hold the fog. There was a confused little
crowd of people, principally children, gathered about the house at
which we stopped, which had a tarnished brass plate on the door
with the inscription JELLYBY.

"Don't be frightened!" said Mr. Guppy, looking in at the coach-