But they are not all like the woman who now leaves him and his house behind; between whose plain dress, and her refined manner, there is something exceedingly inconsistent. She should be an upper servant by her attire, yet, in her air and step, though both are hurried and assumed--as far as she can assume in the muddy streets, which she treads with an unaccustomed foot--she is a lady. Her face is vailed, and still she sufficiently betrays herself to make more than one of those who pass her look round sharply. She never turns her head. Lady or servant, she has a purpose in her, and can follow it. She never turns her head, until she comes to the crossing where Jo plies with his broom. He crosses with her, and begs. Still, she does not turn her head until she has landed on the other side. Then, she slightly beckons to him, and says, "Come here!" Jo follows her, a pace or two, into a quiet court. "Are you the boy I have read of in the papers?" she asks, behind her vail. "I don't know," says Jo, staring moodily at the vail, "nothink about no papers. I don't know nothink about nothink at all." "Were you examined at an Inquest?" "I don't know nothink about no--where I was took by the beadle, do you mean?" says Jo. "Was the boy's name at the Inkwhich, Jo?" "Yes." "That's me!" says Jo. "Come farther up." "You mean about the man?" says Jo, following. "Him as was dead?" "Hush! Speak in a whisper! Yes. Did he look, when he was living, so very ill and poor!" "O jist!" says Jo. "Did he look like--not like _you_?" says the woman with abhorrence. "O not so bad as me," says Jo. "I'm a reg'lar one, _I_ am! You didn't know him, did you?" "How dare you ask me if I knew him?" "No offense, my lady," says Jo, with much humility; for even he has got at the suspicion of her being a lady. "I am not a lady. I am a servant." "You are a jolly servant!" says Jo; without the least idea of saying any thing offensive; merely as a tribute of admiration. "Listen and be silent. Don't talk to me, and stand farther from me! Can you show me all those places that were spoken of in the account I read? The place he wrote for, the place he died at, the place where you were taken to, and the place where he was buried? Do you know the place where he was buried?" Jo answers with a nod; having also nodded as each other place was mentioned. "Go before me, and show me all those dreadful places. Stop opposite to each, and don't speak to me unless I speak to you. Don't look back. Do what I want, and I will pay you well." Jo attends closely while the words are being spoken; tells them off on his broom-handle, finding them rather hard; pauses to consider their meaning; considers it satisfactory, and nods his ragged head. "I am fly," says Jo. "But fen larks, you know! Stow hooking it!" "What does the horrible creature mean?" exclaims the servant, recoiling from him. "Stow cutting away, you know!" says Jo.