"Not just now. Don't keep the boy down here, please--he'll stand and talk, forgetting that he's in the way to-night, unless you give him a hint to the contrary. Out of business, he's a trifle inconsiderate, unless you plainly tell him he's not wanted. Good night--I shall see Harriet in the morning." "Yes--good night." Mr. Hinchford retires again, and in a few minutes afterwards, before there is further time to dilate upon the danger of railway travelling, and the uncertainty of human hopes, the long-expected cab dashes up to the door. There is a bustle in Great Suffolk Street; the cabman brings in the boxes amidst a little knot of loungers, who have evidently never seen a box before, or a cab, or a young lady emerge therefrom assisted by a tall young man, or listened to an animated dispute about a cab-fare, which comes in by way of sequence whilst the young lady is kissing everybody in turn in the parlour. "My fare's eighteenpence, guv'nor." "Not one shilling, legally," affirmed the young man. "I never did it for a shilling afore--I ain't a going now--I'll take a summons out first." "Take it." "You won't stand another sixpence, guv'nor?" "No." "Then," bundling on to his box, and lashing his horse ferociously, "I won't waste my time on a tailor--it's much too valuable for that!" The young man laughs at this withering sarcasm, and passes through the shop into the parlour, where the animation has scarcely found time to subside. Harriet Wesden is holding Mattie at arm's length, and looking steadily at her--the stationer's daughter is taller by a head than the stray. "And you, Mattie, have been improving, I see--learning all the lessons that I set you before I went away--becoming of help to father and mother, and thinking of poor _me_ sometimes." "Ah! very often of 'poor me.'" "Oh! how tired I am!--how glad I shall be to find myself in my room! Now, Mr. Sidney, I'm going to bid you good night at once, thanking you for all past services." "Very well, Miss Harriet." "And, goodness me!--I did not notice those things before! What! spectacles, Sidney--at your age?" The tall young man colours and laughs--keeping his position at the door-post all the while. "Can't afford to have weak eyes yet, and so have sacrificed all my personal charms for the sake of convenience in matters of business. You don't mean to say that they look so very bad, though?" "You look nearer ninety than nineteen," she replies. "Oh! I wouldn't take to spectacles for ever so much." "That's a very different affair," remarks Sidney. "Why?" "Oh! because it _is_--that's all. Well, I think I'll say good night now--shall I take that box up-stairs for you, Miss Harriet?" "Ann and I can manage it, Mr. Hinchford," says Mattie. "Yes, and put a rib out, or something. Can't allow the gentler sex to be black slaves during my sojourn in Great Suffolk Street. Good night all." "Good night."