This was too much for Mrs. Squallop, and she was obliged to wipe her full eyes with the corner of her apron, without saying a word. Her heart smote her for the misery she had inflicted on one who seemed quite broken down. Pity suddenly flew, fluttering his wings--soft dove!--into her heart, and put to flight in an instant all her enraged feelings. "Come, Mr. Titmouse," said she, in quite an altered tone, "never mind _me_; I'm a plain-spoken woman enough, I dare say--and often say more than I mean--for I know I a'n't over particular when my blood's up--but--lord!--I--I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head, poor chap!--for all I've said--no, not for double the rent you owe me. Come! don't go on so, Mr. Titmouse--what's the use?--it's all quite--over--I'm _so_ sorry--Lud! if I had _really_ thought"--she almost sobbed--"you'd been so--so--why, I'd have waited till to-morrow night before I'd said a word. But, Mr. Titmouse, since you haven't had any dinner, won't you have a mouthful of something--a bit of bread and cheese I--I'll soon fetch you up a bit, and a drop of beer--we've just had it in for our suppers." "No, thank you--I can't--I can't eat!" sobbed Titmouse. "Oh, bother it, but you _shall_! I'll go down and fetch it up in half a minute, as sure as my name's Squallop!" And out of the room and down-stairs she bustled, glad of a moment to recover herself. "Lord-a-mercy!" said she, on entering her room, to her eldest daughter and a neighbor who had just come in to supper--and while she hastily cut a thick hunch of bread, and a good slice of cheese--"there I've been a-rating that poor little chap, up at the top room, (my dandy lodger, you know,) like anything--and I really don't think he's had a morsel of victuals in his belly this precious day; and I've made him cry, poor soul! as if his heart would break. Pour us out half a pint of that beer, Sally--a _good_ half pint, mind!--I'm going to take it up-stairs directly. I've gone a deal too far with him, I do think; but it's all of that nasty old Gripe; I've been wrong all the day through it! How I hate the sight of old Gripe! What _hodious_ looking people they do get to collect the rates and taxes, to be sure!--Poor chap," she continued, as she wiped out a plate with her apron, and put into it the bread and cheese, together with a knife--"he offered me a chair when I went in, so uncommon civil-like, it took a good while before I could get myself into the humor to _give it_ him as I wanted. And he's no father nor mother, (half of which has happened to _you_, Sal, and the rest will happen one of these days, you know--so you mind me while you have me!) and he's not such a very bad lodger, after all, though he _does_ get a little behind-hand now and then, and though he turns out every Sunday like a lord, poor fool--as your poor dear father used to say, 'with a shining back and empty belly.'"