“Ah! you may well ask that,” answered the pert Mrs. Fokesell—“gone to look after you; and I suppose you can remember the kind of place you’ve come from?” “I come from Houndsditch, I tell tha, woman,” replied Mr. Sandboys, curtly, for he was afraid to give full vent to his feeling, lest he might receive “notice to quit,” and then be left without a roof to shelter himself or family. “You must tell that to the marines, as my Fokesell used to say,” retorted the landlady; “for I knows better—so it’s no use your denying the tricks you have been at no longer; and all I got to say is, the sooner you has your temples bathed with winegar, the better it will be for you in the morning. Come, now. I’m a married woman, and knows all about these matters. Bless you! my Fokesell has taken a drop too much many a time; so just let me go and get you a Seidelitz powder, or, if them’s too cold for you, be persuaded by me, and take a couple of ‘Cockles.’” Poor Mr. Sandboys sat all this time almost “boiling over” with rage. He bit his lip between his teeth to prevent his saying a word, for he now began to see that not only the landlady, but his daughter, both imagined that he had been drinking. Why they should imagine as much was more than he could conceive, but it was evident that such was their impression. “I’m sure your head must ache, father,” said Elcy, observing her parent bite his lip, as she fancied, with pain. “It really burns like a fire,” she added, as she laid her hand across his forehead. “Doan’t be a fuil, child!” cried Cursty, as he angrily dragged down her arm. “I shall go mad among you aw’, I shall. What in t’ warl’s happened, to put sic notions in tha head?” Here the girl of all-work tapped at the attic-door, and informed Mrs. Fokesell that there was a young man below stairs as wanted to speak with the lady of the house. The landlady disappeared for a few minutes, and then suddenly darted back into the room, with cap-strings flying a yard behind her. “Well, I _do_ declare,” she exclaimed, standing with her hands on her hips, “if you ain’t all of a piece;—fust it’s you, and then it’s your missus. Ah, you may stare, but I’ve got a pretty set in my house, it seems. Here’s a young man below as has come to say that Mrs. Sandboys has got took up for assaulting a policeman, and that she’s a lying in the station-house till her case comes on for hearing.” “Heavens!” cried Cursty, “it canna be true——” “Oh, father! father! what will become of her?” said the afflicted Elcy, as her head fell on her parent’s shoulder, in terror at the thoughts of her mother being in such a place. “What can it aw’ mean?” shouted Sandboys.