‘No, I can’t call to mind one of them. But if you take any interest in theatricals, go and see Mr. Clipcome, our hairdresser. He’ll talk to you for the hour together of our theatre, and the people who’ve acted there. He never cut my hair in his life that he didn’t tell me how he once curled and powdered a wig for the celebrated Miss Foote to act Lady Teazle in. It’s his ’obby.’ ‘Indeed! Then I shall certainly look in upon Mr. Clipcome. Where does he live?’ ‘In a little court, by the side of Bethlehem Chapel, which was the theatre.’ ‘Thanks, Mrs. Chadwick,’ said Maurice, rising. ‘I’ll step round to Mr. Clipcome at once, and get him to give me the county crop. I’ve been running to seed lately. Perhaps you’ll be kind enough to order me a little bit of dinner in the coffee-room at half-past six.’ ‘With pleasure, sir. Any choice?’ ‘None whatever. I shall walk about your town for a few hours, and get an appetite for anything you like to set before me.’ ‘A very agreeable gentleman,’ thought Mrs. Chadwick, as Maurice strolled out of the bar, ‘so chatty and friendly. Doesn’t give himself half the airs of your commercial gents, yet any one can see he’s altogether superior to them.’ Mr. Clissold strolled through the quiet old town, with its long straggling high street, graced here and there by a picturesque gable or an ancient lattice, but, for the most part, somewhat commonplace. At one point there was a kind of square, from which two lateral streets diverged—a square with a pump and police office in the centre, and a Methodist chapel on each side. One of these chapels, the newest and smartest, was Bethlehem, as an inscription over its portal made known to the world at large—Bethlehem, 1853,—and at the side of Bethlehem, once the Temple of Thespis, there was a clean paved alley, leading to another street; an alley with a public-house at one corner, and a few decent shops on one side, facing the blank wall of the chapel. One of these shops was the emporium of Mr. Clipcome, who was at once tobacconist, hairdresser, and dealer in fancy and miscellaneous articles too numerous to mention. Maurice found Mr. Clipcome standing upon his threshold contemplating life as exhibited in Playhouse Court, where a small child in a go-cart, and a woman cheapening bloaters at the greengrocer’s were the only objects that presented themselves at this particular time to the student of humanity. But then Mr. Clipcome had an oblique view of the square, town pump, and police station, and in a general way could see anything that was going on from the vantage-ground of his door-step.