will make the rheumatiz very rumpatious!"

"On the contrary, on the contrary," said Mrs. Mivers, triumphantly; and
she proceeded philosophically to explain that all the fevers, aches,
pains, and physical ills that harass the poor arise from the want of an
air-trap in the chimney and a perforated network in the window-pane.
Becky listened patiently; for Mrs. Mivers was only a philosopher in her
talk, and she had proved herself anything but a philosopher in her
actions, by the spontaneous present of five shillings, and the promise of
a basket of victuals and some good wine to keep the cold wind she invited
to the apartment out of the stomach.

Percival imitated the silence of Becky, whose spirit was so bowed down by
an existence of drudgery that not even the sight of her foster-son could
draw her attention from the respect due to a superior.

"And is this poor cranky-looking cretur your son, Mrs. Becky?" said the
visitor, struck at last by the appearance of the ex-sweeper as he stood
at the threshold, hat in hand.

"No, indeed, marm," answered Becky; "I often says, says I: 'Child, you be
the son of Sint Poll's.'"

Beck smiled proudly.

"It was agin the grit church, marm ---- But it's a long story. My poor
good man had not a long been dead,--as good a man as hever lived, marm,"
and Becky dropped a courtesy; "he fell off a scaffold, and pitched right
on his 'ead, or I should not have come on the parish, marm,--and that's
the truth on it!"