If you were in her place, would you like to have a remembrance of
better early days, when you were young and happy, and loving,
perhaps; or would you prefer to have no past on which your mind
could rest? About the year 1788, Goody, were your cheeks rosy,
and your eyes bright, and did some young fellow in powder and a
pigtail look in them? We may grow old, but to us some stories
never are old. On a sudden they rise up, not dead, but living --
not forgotten, but freshly remembered. The eyes gleam on us as
they used to do. The dear voice thrills in our hearts. The
rapture of the meeting, the terrible, terrible parting, again and
again the tragedy is acted over. Yesterday, in the street, I saw
a pair of eyes so like two which used to brighten at my coming
once, that the whole past came back as I walked lonely, in the
rush of the Strand, and I was young again in the midst of joys
and sorrows, alike sweet and sad, alike sacred and fondly
remembered.

If I tell a tale out of school, will any harm come to my old
school-girl? Once, a lady gave her a half-sovereign, which was a
source of great pain and anxiety to Goody Twoshoes. She sewed it
away in her old stays somewhere, thinking here at least was a
safe investment -- (vestis -- a vest -- an investment, -- pardon
me, thou poor old thing, but I cannot help the pleasantry). And
what do you think? Another pensionnaire of the establishment cut
the coin out of Goody's stays -- an old woman who went upon two
crutches! Faugh, the old witch! What? Violence amongst these
toothless, tottering, trembling, feeble ones? Robbery amongst
the penniless? Dogs coming and snatching Lazarus's crumbs out of
his lap? Ah, how indignant Goody was as she told the story! To