curiosity; she could wait till the morning to hear who had
half-killed whom. Four days ago it was her own mother's turn to be
pounded into insensibility; her father (a journeyman baker, often
working nineteen hours out of the twenty-four, which probably did
not improve his temper), maddened by his wife's persistent
drunkenness, was stopped just on the safe side of murder. To the
amazement and indignation of the Gardens, Mrs. Candy prosecuted her
sovereign lord; the case had been heard to-day, and Candy had been
east in a fine. The money was paid, and the baker went his way,
remarking that his family were to 'expect him back when they saw
him.' Mrs. Candy, on her return, was hooted through all the length
of the Gardens, a demonstration of public feeling probably rather of
base than of worthy significance.

As Pennyloaf drew near to the house, a wild, discordant voice
suddenly broke forth somewhere in the darkness, singing n a high
key, 'All ye works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord, praise Him and
magnify Him for ever!' It was Mad Jack, who had his dwelling in the
Court, and at all hours was wont to practise the psalmody which made
him notorious throughout Clerkenwell. A burst of laughter followed
from a group of men and boys gathered near the archway. Unheeding,
the girl passed in at an open door and felt her way up a staircase;
the air was noisome, notwithstanding a fierce draught which swept
down the stairs. She entered a room lighted by a small metal lamp
hanging on the wall--a precaution of Pennyloaf's own contrivance.
There was no bed, but one mattress lay with a few rags of
bed-clothing spread upon it, and two others were rolled up in a
corner. This chamber accommodated, under ordinary circumstances,
four persons: Mr. and Mrs. Candy, Pennyloaf, and a son named
Stephen, whose years were eighteen. (Stephen pursued the occupation