One day succeeded another, with the family struggling on, Mrs Septimus helping Lucy when she could, while, as for Septimus, the most satisfactory work he obtained was that of copying sermons out for Mr Sterne; though, strange as it may seem, that gentleman never once used Septimus Hardon's clear, unblurred transcript, but put it away week after week, sighing that his income was not greater. Septimus had now given up all hope of hearing from his father, and, resigned somewhat to his fate, he bent over his writing-table trying to make up by perseverance what he wanted in ability--a capital plan, and one that has succeeded where talent has made a miserable failure, as old Aesop knew hundreds of years ago. As for asking his uncle for aid, such a thought never crossed Septimus Hardon's mind, and perhaps it was well, for it spared the poor sensitive man the unpleasantry of a refusal. One day, all in a hurry and bustle, up came old Matt, just at dinner-time, to find Mrs Septimus making a sorry failure in her attempt to find an invalid's dinner in some bread and a long slice of cheese that a laundress would easily have seized by mistake, under the impression that it was "best yellow soap." "There, just like me!" exclaimed the old man, with a hasty glance round the room; "just like me; but you won't mind, I know. I always drop in at mealtimes.--There, give us a kiss, my man. God bless you! `What I dot for 'oo?' There's a pretty way to talk! Why, let's see; I think there's something here--down in here somewhere;" and the old man began to dive behind into one of his pockets. "To be sure, here it is!" he cried; "and if all the rich jam isn't coming through the paper! Here we are," he cried, bringing out of a little bag a small oval paste-dish with a crimped edge, full of a very luscious treacly-looking preserve, one that, ten minutes before, had been danced over by the flies in the pastrycook's shop in the Lane. Off went little Tom rejoicing, to prepare himself for the after-dinner wash by gumming his chubby face and hands with the jam. "You won't mind, sir; and, ma'am, I hope?" said Matt apologetically. "But I'm full of work, and haven't time to go home--my lodgings you know; and if you wouldn't mind. I'm as hungry as a hunter-- money-hunter, you know; and there's as nice a bit of roast veal and bacon, piping hot, in the Lane as ever I did see, and that's saying a good deal. Talk about the smell of it! there, you didn't look in at the shop-door or you'd never give a fellow such a cold-shouldery look, ma'am. Whatever you do, ma'am, lend me a couple of plates; I won't intrude long." Mrs Septimus hesitated and glanced at her husband, who was making a feint of eating.