much intense cogitation to Beck whether or not he should have a door to
his chamber; and the result of the cogitation was invariably the same,--
he dared not! What should he want with a door,--a door with a lock to
it? For one followed as a consequence to the other. Such a novel piece
of grandeur would be an ostentatious advertisement that he had something
to guard. He could have no pretence for it on the ground that he was
intruded on by neighbours; no step but his own was ever caught by him
ascending that ladder; it led to no other room. All the offices required
for the lodgment he performed himself. His supposed poverty was a better
safeguard than doors of iron. Besides this, a door, if dangerous, would
be superfluous; the moment it was suspected that Beck had something worth
guarding, that moment all the picklocks and skeleton keys in the
neighbourhood would be in a jingle. And a cracksman of high repute
lodged already on the ground-floor. So Beck's treasure, like the bird's
nest, was deposited as much out of sight as his instinct could contrive;
and the locks and bolts of civilized men were equally dispensed with by
bird and Beck.

On a rusty nail the sweep suspended the drab small-clothes, stroked them
down lovingly, and murmured, "They be 's too good for I; I should like to
pop 'em! But vould n't that be a shame? Beck, be n't you be a
hungrateful beast to go for to think of nothin' but the tin, ven your
'art ought to varm with hemotion? I vill vear 'em ven I vaits on him.
Ven he sees his own smalls bringing in the muffins, he will say, 'Beck,
you becomes 'em!'"

Fraught with this noble resolution, the sweep caught up his broom, crept
down the ladder, and with a furtive glance at the door of the room in
which the cracksman lived, let himself out and shambled his way to his
crossing. Grabman, in the mean while, dressed himself with more care