Being (I suppose) a kind of Mephistopheles in his line, Mr. Tobias Jellico accomplished his wish and cut off a gown against her judgment. He sold other gowns, and "ribbins," and trumpery; the yard measure had nearly as little rest as the women's tongues. Mrs. Reed's turn to be served seemed to come last; after the manner of her betters, she yielded precedence to her guests. "Now for me, sir," she said. "You've done a good stroke o' business here to-day, Mr. Jellico, and I hope you won't objec' to change that there gownd piece as I bought last Monday for some'at a trifle stronger. Me and some others have been a-looking at it, and we don't think it'll wear." "Oh, I'll change it," readily answered Jellico. "You should put a few more shillings on, Mrs. Reed: better have a good thing when you're about it. It's always cheaper in the end." "Well, I suppose it is," she said. "But I'm a'most frightened at the score that'll be running up." "It's easily wiped off," answered the man, pleasantly. "Just a shilling or two weekly." There was more chaffering and talking; and after that came the chink of money. The women had each a book, and Jellico had his book, and they were compared with his, and made straight. As he came out with the pack on his back, he saw me sitting on the bench, and looked hard at me: whether he knew me again, I can't say. Just then Frank Stirling ran by, turning down Piefinch Lane. I went after him: the women's tongues inside were working like so many steam-engines, and it was as well to let them run down before speaking to Mrs. Reed. Half-way down Piefinch Lane on the left, there was a turning, called Piefinch Cut. It had grown into a street. All kinds of shops had been opened, dealing in small wares: and two public-houses. A pawnbroker from Alcester had opened a branch establishment here--which had set the world gaping more than they would at a wild-beast show. It was managed by a Mr. Figg. The three gilt balls stood out in the middle of the Cut; and the blacksmith's forge, to which Stirling was bound, was next door. He wanted something done to a piece of iron. While we were standing amidst the sparks, who should go into the house the other side the way but Jellico and his pack! "Yes, he should come into mine, he should, that fellow," ironically observed John Dovey: who was a good-natured, dark-eyed little man, with a tolerable share of sense. "I'd be after trundling him out again, feet foremost." "Is he a travelling hawker?" asked Stirling.