A scarcely perceptible wink of Tom's left eye was designed to show Aubrey that his position was understood, and action taken upon it. Aubrey saw and comprehended the gesture. Hans saw it also, but did not comprehend it except as a sign of some private understanding between the two. They walked on together, Aubrey engaged in vexed meditation as to how he was to get rid of Hans. But Hans had no intention of allowing himself to be dismissed. He began to talk, and Aubrey had to answer, and could not satisfy himself what course to pursue, till he found himself at the door of the White Bear. Charity was at the door, doing what every housemaid was then compelled to do, namely, pouring her slops into the gutter. "Eh, Mestur Aubrey, is that yo'?" said she. "'Tis a month o' Sundays sin' we've seen you. You might come a bit oftener, I reckon, if you'd a mind. Stand out o' th' way a minute, do, while I teem these here slops out. There's no end to folks' idleness down this road. Here's Marg'et Rumboll, at th' back, been bidden by th' third-borough to get hersen into service presently, under pain of a whipping, and Mary Quinton, up yon, to do th' same within a month, at her peril. [Note 1.] I reckon, if I know aught of either Mall or Marg'et, they'll both look for a place where th' work's put forth. Dun ye know o' any such, Mestur Aubrey, up City way?" Aubrey was not sufficiently sharp to notice the faint twinkle in Charity's eyes, and the slight accent of sarcasm in her tone. Hans perceived both. "I do not, Charity, but I dare be bound there are plenty," said Aubrey, stepping delicately over the puddle which Charity had just created, so as to cause as little detriment as possible to his Spanish leather shoes and crimson silk stockings. "Ay, very like there will. They'll none suit you, Mestur 'Ans; you're not one of yon sort. Have a care o' th' puddle, Mestur Aubrey, or you'll mire your brave hose, and there'll be wark for somebody." With which Parthian dart, Charity bore off her pail, and Aubrey and Hans went forward into the parlour, "Good even, my gracious Lord!" was the greeting with which the former was received. "Your Lordship's visits be scarcer than the sun's, and he has not shown his face none wist when. Marry, but I do believe I've seen that suit afore!"