or in the real water; she introduced her daughter, Mrs. Captain
Walker, to the box-opener; and Melvil Delamere (the first comic),
Canterfield (the tyrant), and Jonesini (the celebrated Fontarabian
Statuesque), were all on the steps, and shouted for Mrs. Captain
Walker's carriage, and waved their hats, and bowed as the little
pony-phaeton drove away. Walker, in his moustaches, had come in at
the end of the play, and was not a little gratified by the
compliments paid to himself and lady.

Among the other articles of luxury with which the Captain furnished
his house we must not omit to mention an extremely grand piano,
which occupied four-fifths of Mrs. Walker's little back
drawing-room, and at which she was in the habit of practising
continually. All day and all night during Walker's absences (and
these occurred all night and all day), you might hear--the whole
street might hear--the voice of the lady at No. 23, gurgling, and
shaking, and quavering, as ladies do when they practise. The street
did not approve of the continuance of the noise; but neighbours are
difficult to please, and what would Morgiana have had to do if she
had ceased to sing? It would be hard to lock a blackbird in a cage
and prevent him from singing too. And so Walker's blackbird, in the
snug little cage in the Edgware Road, sang and was not unhappy.

After the pair had been married for about a year, the omnibus that
passes both by Mrs. Crump's house near "The Wells," and by Mrs.
Walker's street off the Edgware Road, brought up the former-named
lady almost every day to her daughter. She came when the Captain
had gone to his business; she stayed to a two-o'clock dinner with
Morgiana; she drove with her in the pony-carriage round the Park;
but she never stopped later than six. Had she not to go to the play