Her husband put the child down in disgust, banged his hat upon his head, as if to go back to “The Feathers,” and was leaving the room, when a fresh idea struck him. If he could but break down his wife’s self-respect he might afterwards mould her more easily to his purpose, and the course he proposed to adopt might, at any rate, furnish him in the meantime with a little money for his dissipation; so he turned round coaxingly to poor Gingham, and asked for his bit of dinner, and put the infant once more upon his knee, ere he began to sound her on the propriety of applying for a little assistance to her darling Miss Blanche. “You ought to go and see your young lady, Rachel,” said he, quite good-humouredly, and with the old keeping-company-days’ smile; “it’s only proper respect, now she’s grown to be a great lady, and come to London. I’ll mind the child at home; it likes to be left with its daddy--a deary--and you brush yourself up a bit, and put on your Sunday gown there, and take a bit of a holiday; you needn’t hurry back, you know, if they ask you to stay tea in the room, and I’ll be here till you come home; or if I’m not, I’ll get one of the neighbours to look in. So now go, there’s a good wench.” Mrs. Blacke had not heard such endearing language since the sea-side walks at St. Swithin’s--she felt almost happy again, and nearly forgot the “three-and-eightpence” wanting for the week’s account. Sundry feminine misgivings had she, as to her personal appearance being sufficiently fine to face the new servants, in the exalted character of Miss Blanche’s late lady’s-maid; but women, even ugly ones, have a wonderful knack of adorning themselves on very insufficient materials, and Tom assured her the black silk looked as good as new, and that bonnet always _did_ become her, and always _would_--so she gave the child a parting kiss, and her husband many injunctions to take care of the treasure, and started in wonderfully good spirits; Tom’s last injunction to her as she departed being to this effect--“If Miss Blanche should ask you how we’re getting on, Rachel, you put your pride in your pocket--mind that--put your pride in your pocket, do you understand?” So the drunkard was left alone with his child.