Hannah Dawson, so their names were put on the board above the
shop-door--I always called them Miss Dawson and Miss
Hannah--considered these visits of mine to Mr Peters as the
greatest honour a young man could have; and evidently thought
that if after such privileges, I did not work out my salvation, I
was a sort of modern Judas Iscariot. On the contrary, they shook
their heads over my intercourse with Mr Holdsworth. He had been
so kind to me in many ways, that when I cut into my ham, I
hovered over the thought of asking him to tea in my room, more
especially as the annual fair was being held in Eltham
market-place, and the sight of the booths, the merry-go-rounds,
the wild-beast shows, and such country pomps, was (as I thought
at seventeen) very attractive. But when I ventured to allude to
my wish in even distant terms, Miss Hannah caught me up, and
spoke of the sinfulness of such sights, and something about
wallowing in the mire, and then vaulted into France, and spoke
evil of the nation, and all who had ever set foot therein, till,
seeing that her anger was concentrating itself into a point, and
that that point was Mr Holdsworth, I thought it would be better
to finish my breakfast, and make what haste I could out of the
sound of her voice. I rather wondered afterwards to hear her and
Miss Dawson counting up their weekly profits with glee, and
saying that a pastry-cook's shop in the corner of the
market-place, in Eltham fair week, was no such bad thing.
However, I never ventured to ask Mr Holdsworth to my lodgings.

There is not much to tell about this first year of mine at
Eltham. But when I was nearly nineteen, and beginning to think of
whiskers on my own account, I came to know cousin Phillis, whose
very existence had been unknown to me till then. Mr Holdsworth