"Ay," cried the dame, laughing, "I fancies you war not pleased with the bargain. I thought you war too old a ragmerchant to be so free with the blunt; howsomever, I supposes it war the tinsel petticoat as took you in!" "As it has mony a viser man than the like of I," rejoined Dummie, who to his various secret professions added the ostensible one of a rag-merchant and dealer in broken glass. The recollection of her good bargain in the box of rags opened our landlady's heart. "Drink, Dummie," said she, good-humouredly,--"drink; I scorns to score lush to a friend." Dummie expressed his gratitude, refilled his glass, and the hospitable matron, knocking out from her pipe the dying ashes, thus proceeded: "You sees, Dummie, though I often beats the boy, I loves him as much as if I war his raal mother,--I wants to make him an honour to his country, and an ixciption to my family!" "Who all flashed their ivories at Surgeons' Hall!" added the metaphorical Dummie. "True!" said the lady; "they died game, and I be n't ashamed of 'em. But I owes a duty to Paul's mother, and I wants Paul to have a long life. I would send him to school, but you knows as how the boys only corrupt one another. And so, I should like to meet with some decent man, as a tutor, to teach the lad Latin and vartue!" "My eyes!" cried Dummie; aghast at the grandeur of this desire. "The boy is 'cute enough, and he loves reading," continued the dame; but I does not think the books he gets hold of will teach him the way to grow old." "And 'ow came he to read, anyhows?" "Ranting Rob, the strolling player, taught him his letters, and said he'd a deal of janius." "And why should not Ranting Rob tache the boy Latin and vartue?" "'Cause Ranting Rob, poor fellow, was lagged [Transported for burglary] for doing a panny!" answered the dame, despondently. There was a long silence; it was broken by Mr. Dummie. Slapping his thigh with the gesticulatory vehemence of a Ugo Foscolo, that gentleman exclaimed,-- "I 'as it,--I 'as thought of a tutor for leetle Paul!" "Who's that? You quite frightens me; you 'as no marcy on my narves," said the dame, fretfully. "Vy, it be the gemman vot writes," said Dummie, putting his finger to his nose,--"the gemman vot paid you so flashly!" "What! the Scotch gemman?" "The werry same!" returned Dummie. The dame turned in her chair and refilled her pipe. It was evident from her manner that Mr. Dunnaker's suggestion had made an impression on her. But she recognized two doubts as to its feasibility: one, whether the gentleman proposed would be adequate to the task; the other, whether he would be willing to undertake it. In the midst of her meditations on this matter, the dame was interrupted by the entrance of certain claimants on her hospitality; and Dummie soon after taking his leave, the suspense of Mrs. Lobkins's mind touching the education of little Paul remained the whole of that day and night utterly unrelieved. CHAPTER III.