Mrs Lower mostly had "a snack," as she termed it, for her breakfast; such snack being generally something very savoury and appetising, and frequently taking the form of mushrooms, devilled drumsticks, or kidneys; while Hides, the butcher in the market-place, had been known to tell fibs, his wife said, on Mrs Lower's account, and to deny that he had any sweetbreads when even aristocratic customers had wanted them, so that Mrs Lower might not be disappointed. But then Mrs Lower was no mean customer; and Hides said, with a wink to his wife, her money was always there when he wanted it, and that was more than some people's was who held their heads very high. Mrs Hardon had been heard to say that she believed Hides' calves never had any sweetbreads--a remark conveyed, per the cook, to Hides himself, at a time when that gentleman evinced very little pleasure in supplying the Hardon house, and always made a point of sending in dry beef and mean tough mutton. But Mrs Lower could always have sweetbreads, and she was enjoying one cooked to perfection, sipping too, from time to time, a fine rich cup of tea, with an odour of a great-many-spoons-to-the-pot power, when Charles, head--and foot--waiter, made his appearance at the bar-door, with his head on one side, and a sharp cocksparrow-look about him, from his beaky nose, prominent chest, and thin legs,--his tail-coat aiding the simile. "Heard the news, mem?" said Charles, raising the napkin he carried over his arm, and nearly wiping his nose upon it by mistake. "No, Charles," said Mrs Lower, peeping into the pot by raising the lid. "The whole town, mem, 's in a--" "Take that pot out, Charles, and put in one cupful,--not more, the tea-kettle's low, and the water's all furry." "Yes, mem; town's in a fermin, mem, and--" "One cupful mind, Charles," said Mrs Lower, interrupting him. "Fermin, mem," continued Charles, "and--" "Bless the man, go and fill the pot!" exclaimed Mrs Lower. "No--no! not fill it--one cup, Charles;" and the waiter disappeared. "And now what's the matter?" said Mrs Lower blandly, as, somewhat ruffled and reticent, Charles brought back the pot, having forgotten that the most important matter to Mrs Lower at meal-time was the meal itself. "Matter, mem--why, everything's the matter--burglary and robbery, and murder almost; and all sorts, mem," said Charles, again making a dash at his napkin, but recollecting himself in time in favour of a red-silk handkerchief. "Nonsense!" said Mrs Lower, thoroughly enjoying a piece of the very brownest sweetbread outside, rich in glorious osmazome; "nonsense, Charles!" and so far from being startled, she cut two or three dice-shaped pieces of bread, soaked them in the rich gravy, and went on enjoying her breakfast. "Fact, mem, I assure you," said Charles. "That's what Keenings sent for our fly for, mem." "What for? the burglars or the murderers, Charles?" said Mrs Lower composedly.