Mr. Kitely hurried out, and returned with Mr. Spelt, Poppie, and the steam-engine, which was set down in the middle of the room. "Ain't I been fort'nate?" said the bookseller. "Poppie ain't sold all her potatoes. They was a-going to eat 'em up by the way of savin'. So we've agreed to club, and go share and share. Ain't that it, Poppie?" Poppie grinned and gave no other answer. But her father took up the word. "It's very kind of you to put it so, Mr. Kitely. But it seems to me we're hardly fit company for a lady like Miss Burton." "Surely, Mr. Spelt, we haven't been neighbors so long without being fit to have our supper together?" said Lucy. "That's very neighborly of you, miss. Let me assist you to a potato," said Spelt, going toward the steamer. "It's my belief there ain't no better taters in London, though I says it as buys 'em," he added, throwing back the lid. "But we ain't going to begin on the taters, Spelt. You come and sit down here, and we'll have the taters put on a plate. That's the right way, ain't it, princess?" "Well, I should say so, Mr. Kitely," answered Mattie, who had hitherto been too full of her own importance even to talk. But Mr. Spelt interfered. "Them taters," said he, with decision, "ought to be eaten fresh out of the steamer. If you turn 'em out on to a plate, I don't answer for the consequences. We'll put 'em nearer the table, and I'll sit by 'em, with your leave, Miss Burton, and help everybody as wants one." It was remarkable with how much more decision than had belonged to him formerly, Mr. Spelt now spoke. Mr. Kitely, after a half hour's meditation, next day, as to whether the cause of it was Poppie or the potatoes, came to the wise conclusion that between them they had made a man of him. By this time they were all seated round the table. "Mr. Spelt, you be parson, and say grace," said Kitely, in his usual peremptory tone. "Why should you ask me, Mr. Kitely?" said the tailor, humbly. "Because you know more about that sort o' thing than I do--and you know it." Mr. Spelt said grace so devoutly that nobody could hear him. "Why do you say grace as if you was ashamed of it, Spelt? If I was to say grace, now, I would let you hear me." "I didn't know you cared about such things," returned Spelt, evasively. "Well," said Mr. Kitely, "no more I do--or did, rather; for I'm afraid that Mr. Fuller will get me into bad habits before he has done with me. He's a good man, Mr. Fuller, and that's more than I'd say for every one of the cloth. They're nothing but cloth--meaning no offense, Mr. Spelt, to a honest trade." "Perhaps there are more good ones among 'em than you think, Mr. Kitely," said Lucy. "There ud need to be, miss. But I declare that man has almost made me hold my tongue against the whole sect of them. It seems a shame, with him in St. Amos's, to say a word against Mr. Potter in St. Jacob's. I never thought I should take to the church in my old age."