hexactly; and many's the good piece of work we ha' done togither."

"And where is she now?" asked Mr. R----'s companion.

"I doesn't know purcisely, but I can com' at her. You see, when my poor
wife died, four year com' Chris'mas, and left me with as fine a famuly,
though I says it, as h-old King Georgy himself walked afore, with his
gold-'eaded cane, on the terris at Vindsor,--all heights and all h-ages
to the babby in arms (for the little 'un there warn't above a year old,
and had been a brought up upon spoon-meat, with a dash o' blueruin to
make him slim and ginteel); as for the bigger 'uns wot you don't see,
they be doin' well in forin parts, Mr. R----!"

Mr. R. smiled significantly.

Bill resumed. "Where was I? Oh, when my wife died, I wanted sum 'un to
take care of the childern, so I takes Peg into the 'ous. But Lor'! how
she larrupped 'em,--she has a cruel heart, has n't she, Bob? Bob is a
'cute child, Mr. R----. Just as I was a thinking of turning her out
neck an' crop, a gemman what lodges aloft, wot be a laryer, and wot had
just saved my nick, Mr. R----, by proving a h-alibi, said, 'That's a tidy
body, your Peg!' (for you see he was often a wisiting here, an' h-indeed,
sin' then, he has taken our third floor, No. 9); 'I've been a speakin' to
her, and I find she has been a nuss to the sick. I has a frind wots a h-
uncle that's ill: can you spare her, Bill, to attind him?' That I can,'
says I; 'anything to obleedge.' So Peg packs off, bag and baggidge."

"And what was the sick gentleman's name?" asked Mr. R----'s companion.

"It was one Mr. Warney,--a painter, wot lived at Clap'am. Since thin