'I know it will. Hush! Pretend to look out of window--Mrs.
Tisher!'

Through a fortuitous concourse of accidents, the matronly Tisher
heaves in sight, says, in rustling through the room like the
legendary ghost of a dowager in silken skirts: 'I hope I see Mr.
Drood well; though I needn't ask, if I may judge from his
complexion. I trust I disturb no one; but there WAS a paper-knife-
-O, thank you, I am sure!' and disappears with her prize.

'One other thing you must do, Eddy, to oblige me,' says Rosebud.
'The moment we get into the street, you must put me outside, and
keep close to the house yourself--squeeze and graze yourself
against it.'

'By all means, Rosa, if you wish it. Might I ask why?'

'O! because I don't want the girls to see you.'

'It's a fine day; but would you like me to carry an umbrella up?'

'Don't be foolish, sir. You haven't got polished leather boots
on,' pouting, with one shoulder raised.

'Perhaps that might escape the notice of the girls, even if they
did see me,' remarks Edwin, looking down at his boots with a sudden
distaste for them.

'Nothing escapes their notice, sir. And then I know what would
happen. Some of them would begin reflecting on me by saying (for