"S'pose it is!" answered Jane, eyeing him rather defiantly; for the rag and bottle woman was her own aunt; and she thought the observation of a personal nature. Though much taken aback, Jones, spurred on by the irresistible wish to know, ventured on another question. "You don't know who is going to take it next, do you?" "Oh! you want to take it, do you?" said Jane. "I--I!" exclaimed Jones, flurried and disconcerted. "La, bless the young woman! I aint in the rag and bottle line, am I?" He thought by this artful turn to throw his young enemy off the scent; but her rejoinder showed him the futility of the attempt. "I didn't say you was, did I?" she replied, drily. Jones rose precipitately, and hastily desiring his love to Mrs. Gray, and his respects to Mary, he retreated most shamefully beaten. He did not breathe freely until he reached the end of the street, and once more found himself opposite the closed rag shop. How he had come there, he did not rightly know; for it was not his way home. But, being there, he naturally gave it another look. He stood gazing at it very attentively, and absorbed in thought, when he was roused by a sharp voice, which said, "P'raps you'd like to see it within." The voice came from above. Richard looked up. The first floor window was open, and a man's head was just thrust out of it. It looked down at him in the street, and apparently belonged to a little old man, to whom one very sharp eye--the other was closed up quite tight--and a long nose, which went all of one side, gave a rather remarkable appearance. "Thank you, sir," replied Jones, rather confused. "I--I--" Before he had got to the end of his speech, the old man vanished from the window, and suddenly appeared at the private door, beckoning him in. "Come in," he said, coaxingly, like an ogre luring in an unwary little boy. And, drawn as by a magnet, Jones entered. "Dark passage, but good shop," said the old man. He opened a door, and in the shop suddenly stepped Richard Jones. It was small, dirty, and smelt of grease and old rags. "Good shop," said the old man, rubbing his hands, in seeming great glee; "neat back parlour;" he opened a glass door, and Jones saw a triangular room, not much larger than a good-sized cupboard. "More rooms up stairs," briskly said the old man; he nimbly darted up an old wooden staircase, that creaked under him. Mechanically Jones followed. There were two rooms on the upper and only storey; one of moderate size; the other, a little larger than the back parlour. "Good shop," began the old man, reckoning on his fingers, "ca-pital shop; neat parlour--very neat; upper storey, two rooms; one splendid; cosy bed-room; rent of the whole, only thirty-five pounds a-year--only thirty-five pounds a-year!" The repetition was uttered impressively. "Thank you--much obliged to you," began Richard Jones, wishing himself fairly out of the place; "but you see--"