"Then you're not dead!" exclaimed Miss Tollicks, putting down the jar in a most businesslike way, with motions rapid as her speech; for she had banished the black-velvet blackbird and deportment along with the green baize; but, not quite used to her business, in spite of her ability of adapting herself to circumstances, she sneezed loudly as she lifted the lid. "And how do you do?--there, dear me, how I do sneeze!--and I thought I had quite conquered it, for it does look so--tchisher-er--so-- er-tchisher! There, I'm sure I beg your pardon. And how do you do? and you've got well again, like poor Mary did, in that horrible place, who was dying too, and didn't. And Mr Harding too! and I'm so glad to see you, for you were _that_ kind to me, I don't know what I should have done else. Now you've come to ask me about the doctor again--now haven't you?" Septimus said he had. "Well, now, I hadn't forgotten it, and you were both right, you know; but I shall never forget your kindness, Mr Harding, for but for you that day, everyone must have seen that I had been crying. But you were right; and the doctor did live here, and died here too, ages ago; and then his widow went to live somewhere in one of those quiet streets by the Strand, going down to the river, you know; and then she died, and there was a sale, and that's all; and it isn't much, is it?" Septimus said it was not, certainly. "But then, you know," said Miss Tollicks, "it's no use to try and make more of things of that sort, is it? No, he didn't know the street, nor anything more about it, for he bought the lease of the house of someone else." As for Matt, he did not speak, but took snuff ferociously, and glared at the paper squares upon the counter. "But there, do come in," cried Miss Tollicks; "and, dear me, Mr--Mr--I don't know your name, but don't, pray, take snuff like that; you'll make yourself ill. But there, do come in;" and in spite of refusals Miss Tollicks soon had her visitors seated in her bower, in company with a spirit-bottle and a couple of tumblers and sugar, a tiny kettle upon the fire singing merrily. "I do suffer so from spasms," said Miss Tollicks as she placed the suspicious-looking spirit-bottle upon the table; but all these preparations were not made at once, for, from her many pops in and out of the shop, and the rattling of the scales, it was evident that Miss Tollicks had chosen the right business at last, and was prospering famously. The decanter was brought out of a Berlin-wool-worked overgrown dice-box on one side of the fire, the glasses from its ditto on the other, the kettle out of a window-locker, and divers other ways of economising space were shown; while the visitors were informed that so much of the house was let off. "It all helps so," said Miss Tollicks; "for London rents are enough to kill you; and you doing nothing but feed your landlord." Old Matt grunted acquiescence.