He was especially so on this particular Saturday evening, and honored the Misses Pecksniff with a deal of notice; seldom passing the door of Mrs. Todgers' private room, where they sat alone before the fire, without putting in his head and greeting them with some such compliments as, "There you are again!" "Ain't it nice?"--and similar humorous attentions. "I say," he whispered, stopping in one of his journeys to and fro, "young ladies, there's soup to-morrow. She's a-making it now. Ain't she a-putting in the water? Oh! not at all neither!" In the course of answering another knock, he thrust in his head again: "I say--there's fowls to-morrow. Not skinny ones. Oh no!" Presently he called through the keyhole: "There's a fish to-morrow--just come. Don't eat none of him!" and with this spectral warning vanished again. By-and-by, he returned to lay the cloth for supper. He entertained them on this occasion by thrusting the lighted candle into his mouth, after the performance of which feat, he went on with his professional duties; brightening every knife as he laid it on the table, by breathing on the blade and afterwards polishing the same on the apron already mentioned. When he had completed his preparations, he grinned at the sisters, and expressed his belief that the approaching meal would be of "rather a spicy sort." "Will it be long before it's ready, Bailey?" asked Mercy. "No," said Bailey, "it _is_ cooked. When I come up she was dodging among the tender pieces with a fork, and eating of 'em." But he had scarcely achieved the utterance of these words, when he received a sudden blow on the head, which sent him staggering against the wall; and Mrs. Todgers, dish in hand, stood indignantly before him. "Oh you little villain!" said that lady. "Oh you bad, false boy!" "No worse than yerself," retorted Bailey, guarding his head with his arm. "Ah! Come now! Do that agin, will yer!" "He's the most dreadful child," said Mrs. Todgers, setting down the dish, "I ever had to deal with. The gentlemen spoil him to that extent, and teach him such things, that I'm afraid nothing but hanging will ever do him any good." "Won't it!" cried Bailey. "Oh! Yes! Wot do you go a-lowerin' the table-beer for, then, and destroying my constitooshun?" "Go down-stairs, you vicious boy!" said Mrs. Todgers, holding the door open. "Do you hear me? Go along!" After two or three skilful dodges he went, and was seen no more that night, save once, when he brought up some tumblers and hot water, and much disturbed the two Misses Pecksniff by squinting hideously behind the back of the unconscious Mrs. Todgers. Having done this justice to his wounded feelings, he retired under-ground; where, in company with a swarm of black beetles and a kitchen candle, he employed himself in cleaning boots and brushing clothes until the night was far advanced.