Nelly Featherstone was busy that night. The small room in which she sate working was littered with all sorts of beautiful dressmaking materials; and Nelly herself was diligently engaged—sewing heavy golden fringe upon a resplendent Venetian doublet of green satin, which had glimmerings of white and crimson silk across the chest, and white satin sleeves, tightened and crisped with gold. Indeed, the sheen of satin and glitter of gold lay all over the dingy little room. These were the raw material of the new grand burlesque; and Nelly, who made all her dresses herself, was famous for the historical accuracy of her costume. On this occasion, however, there was a green satin Glengarry lying on a chair, and green satin boots, with the heels not much bigger than a fourpenny-piece, on the table: and she wore on her fingers, to try their lustre, two large rings of cut-glass—the one a shining emerald, the other a brilliant crimson. When Annie Brunel tapped at the door and stepped in, Nelly threw all these things aside, and rushed to her old friend, and hugged and kissed her in her usual impulsive manner, with a dozen "my dears" to every sentence. Her friend’s story was soon told; she wanted Nelly to help her to get some cheap lodgings in the neighbourhood. "And so you know where to come first when you’re down in your luck," said the girl, giving her another kiss, with the tears coming into her eyes—for Nelly’s well-worn heart had still a true and tender throb in it. "So sit you down and take everything off your mind—and share my room to-night, and to-morrow we’ll see about business. Give me your bonnet, there now. Poor dear mother Christmas!—and I’ll give you something to do until supper-time comes, and then we shall have a bit of cold mutton and bottled stout. Oh, I’ve had my trials, too, my dear, since I saw you." "What’s been the matter with you, Nelly? That young gentleman, I suppose——?" "Oh, yes, he’s always at it. But, thank goodness, I’ve got rid of him at last." "Quite sure?" said the other, with a smile. "Oh, quite. Such a fearful row we had, my dear. First about lip-salve; he accused me of using that to make my lips red, when I declare I haven’t used it for two years. Very well, just as we had made that up, you know, dear, we were walking along Oxford Street, and there was a match-boy amusing himself, opposite a publichouse, with a lot of other boys, and he was dancing a very, _very_ clever breakdown step, and I said I’d give my ears if I could do that, just in fun, you know; and, lor, the passion he got into! Stormed about my low tastes, abused the British drama, said I had no more sentiment than a clown; and then I ordered him off, and walked home by myself." "And which of you was the more miserable, Nelly?" "I miserable? Not I. That very night Mr. Helstone sent me the most beautiful little speech about politics and other stuff, and Mr. Melton says I may use it in my part."