It was exactly as he said. In Market-street they stood around the house of one Dickenson, which was thus converted into a palace, and afterwards went by the name; though now it has fallen so low as to become an inn. It had been given out that quarters and accommodation would be required in the town for ten thousand men, but now it did not seem, after they were all drawn up, that there were more than six thousand. Amid loud and hearty acclamations, the prince and the leaders entered the palace, while some of the troops kept station and guard without, and the others dispersed themselves over the town, after they had seen that the pieces of artillery were in safe keeping. * * * * * The house of Dr. Dawson, who had, lately, altogether retired from the duties of his profession, stood in a quiet and remote part of the town. Alice was almost dying, through curiosity, to receive the latest intelligence. But she could only observe others running to _know_, and none coming to _tell_, her about the Pretender, and his entry into Manchester; and this, certainly, was sufficiently provoking for a young lady. James, her brother, had gone out early in the morning, and had not returned, so that she had no one to fret and teaze, but her father; and he was, alas, rather an irritable toy, for a young lady to sport with. “Alice, you are restless and fatigued in my company. Get thee to thy looking-glass, you are never weary of being there.” “It has a more pleasant face than you have, dear father, when you frown,” playfully returned Alice. “There, there,--my children accuse and rebel against me! No matter, their father is old and infirm. I must bring them up, support them, only to listen to their impertinence and disobedience. Would that God had made me childless, or that he had made my children blind or dumb; or had given them a golden portion each, to support them. Oh! you look pretty in tears, Alice,--quite irresistible, upon mine honour. But do not waste them, they are so precious. Pray reserve some: it will be prudent, Alice, they will all be in good time when you get a lover!” “Would that he were come!” peevishly exclaimed Alice, “and I should run off with him, at any hour of the night, and to any place!” “What! without looking in at my bank notes? Eh? Oh! mistress Alice! And there’s your brother--what can he do?” “He can leave home, and I cannot.” “Yes, he _has_ left home,” said the old man, now beginning to be affected. “And where is he?” “Ah! dear father, should he have joined the cause of the Pretender! Oh! how you would repent of the harsh words you have often spoken to him.” “Dear Alice, _I do repent_ already. Come and kiss your harsh old father. Look upon the face that you confess to be less pleasing than your looking glass. Ah, Alice, you are a sly girl.”