"Missis and master's gone to bed too," she added, by way of remonstrance. "I was just a-going." "With all my heart," said Mr. Fauntleroy. "I must see the serjeant." "'Tain't me, then, sir, that'll go and awaken him," cried the girl. "He's gone to bed dead tired, he said, and I was not to disturb him till eight in the morning." "Give me your candle," replied Mr. Fauntleroy, taking it from her hand. "He has the same rooms as usual, I suppose; first floor." Mr. Fauntleroy went up the stairs, and the girl stood at the bottom, and watched and listened. She did not approve of the proceedings, but did not dare to check them; for Mr. Fauntleroy was a great man in Westerbury, and their assize lodger, the serjeant, was a greater. Tap--tap--tap: at Serjeant Wrangle's door. No response. Tap--tap--tap, louder. "Who the deuce is that?" called out the serjeant, who was only dignified in his wig and gown. "Is it you, Eliza? what do you want? It's not morning, is it?" "'Tain't me, sir," screamed out Eliza, who had now followed Mr. Fauntleroy. "I told the gentleman as you was dead tired and wasn't to be woke up till eight in the morning, but he took my light and would come up." "I must see you, Serjeant," said Mr. Fauntleroy. "See me! I'm in bed and asleep. Who the dickens is it?" "Mr. Fauntleroy. Don't you know my voice? Can I come in?" "No; the door's bolted." "Then just come and undo it. For, see you, I must." "Can't it wait?" "If it could I should not have disturbed you. Open the door and you shall judge for yourself." Serjeant Wrangle was heard to tumble out of bed in a lump, and undo the bolt of the door. Eliza concluded that he was in his night attire, and modestly threw her apron over her face. Mr. Fauntleroy entered. "The most extraordinary thing has turned up in Carr versus Carr," cried he. "Never had such a piece of luck, just in the nick of time, in all my practice." "Do shut the door," responded Serjeant Wrangle; "I shall catch the shivers." Mr. Fauntleroy shut the door, shutting out Eliza, who forthwith sat down on the top stair, and wished she had ten ears. "Have you not a dressing-gown to put on?" cried he to the serjeant. "I'll listen in bed," replied the serjeant, vaulting into it. A whole hour did that ill-used Eliza sit on the stairs, and not a syllable could she distinguish, listen as she would, nothing but an eager murmuring of voices. When Mr. Fauntleroy came out, he put the candle in her hand and she attended him to the door, but not in a gracious mood. "I thought you were going to stop all night, sir," she ventured to say. "Dreadful dreary it was, sitting there, a-waiting." "Why did you not wait in the kitchen?" "Because every minute I fancied you must be coming out. Good night, sir." "Good night," returned Mr. Fauntleroy, putting half-a-crown in her hand. "There; that's in case you have to wait on the stairs for me again."