any friend at all, and I didn't know where you was to be found, you
know. But one morning, when I was near the office keyhole I heard
somebody saying that she lived here, and was the lady whose house you
lodged at, and that you was took very bad, and wouldn't nobody come and
take care of you. Mr. Brass, he says, 'It's no business of mine,' he
says; and Miss Sally she says, 'He's a funny chap, but it's no business
of mine;' and the lady went away. So I run away that night, and come
here, and told 'em you was my brother, and I've been here ever since."

"This poor little Marchioness has been wearing herself to death!" cried
Dick.

"No, I haven't," she replied, "not a bit of it. Don't you mind about me.
I like sitting up, and I've often had a sleep, bless you, in one of them
chairs. But if you could have seen how you tried to jump out o' winder,
and if you could have heard how you used to keep on singing and making
speeches, you wouldn't have believed it--I'm so glad you're better,
Mr. Liverer."

"Liverer, indeed!" said Dick thoughtfully. "It's well I am a liverer. I
strongly suspect I should have died, Marchioness, but for you."

At this point, Mr. Swiveller took the small servant's hand in his,
struggling to express his thanks, but she quickly changed the theme,
urging him to shut his eyes and take a little rest. Being indeed
fatigued, he needed but little urging, and fell into a slumber, from
which he waked in about half an hour, after which his small friend
helped him to sit up again.

"Marchioness," said Richard suddenly, "What has become of Kit?"