Were it but for her conduct to her maids I was determined publicly
to denounce her. These poor wretches she causes to lead the lives of
demons; and not content with bullying them all day, she sleeps at
night in the same room with them, so that she may have them up before
daybreak, and scold them while they are dressing.

Certain it is, that between her and Miss Clapperclaw, on the first
floor, the poor wenches lead a dismal life.

It is to you that I owe most of my knowledge of our neighbors; from you
it is that most of the facts and observations contained in these brief
pages are taken. Many a night, over our tea, have we talked amiably
about our neighbors and their little failings; and as I know that you
speak of mine pretty freely, why, let me say, my dear Bessy, that if we
have not built up Our Street between us, at least we have pulled it to
pieces.


THE BUNGALOW--CAPTAIN AND MRS. BRAGG.


Long, long ago, when Our Street was the country--a stagecoach between us
and London passing four times a day--I do not care to own that it was a
sight of Flora Cammysole's face, under the card of her mamma's "Lodgings
to Let," which first caused me to become a tenant of Our Street. A fine
good-humored lass she was then; and I gave her lessons (part out of the
rent) in French and flower-painting. She has made a fine rich marriage
since, although her eyes have often seemed to me to say, "Ah, Mr. T.,
why didn't you, when there was yet time, and we both of us were free,
propose--you know what?" "Psha! Where was the money, my dear madam?"