‘Yes,’ said Mr. Britain: ‘I was hid for the best part of two years behind a bookstall, ready to fly out if anybody pocketed a volume; and after that, I was light porter to a stay and mantua maker, in which capacity I was employed to carry about, in oilskin baskets, nothing but deceptions—which soured my spirits and disturbed my confidence in human nature; and after that, I heard a world of discussions in this house, which soured my spirits fresh; and my opinion after all is, that, as a safe and comfortable sweetener of the same, and as a pleasant guide through life, there’s nothing like a nutmeg-grater.’ Clemency was about to offer a suggestion, but he stopped her by anticipating it. ‘Com-bined,’ he added gravely, ‘with a thimble.’ ‘Do as you wold, you know, and cetrer, eh!’ observed Clemency, folding her arms comfortably in her delight at this avowal, and patting her elbows. ‘Such a short cut, an’t it?’ ‘I’m not sure,’ said Mr. Britain, ‘that it’s what would be considered good philosophy. I’ve my doubts about that; but it wears well, and saves a quantity of snarling, which the genuine article don’t always.’ ‘See how you used to go on once, yourself, you know!’ said Clemency. ‘Ah!’ said Mr. Britain. ‘But the most extraordinary thing, Clemmy, is that I should live to be brought round, through you. That’s the strange part of it. Through you! Why, I suppose you haven’t so much as half an idea in your head.’ Clemency, without taking the least offence, shook it, and laughed and hugged herself, and said, ‘No, she didn’t suppose she had.’ ‘I’m pretty sure of it,’ said Mr. Britain. ‘Oh! I dare say you’re right,’ said Clemency. ‘I don’t pretend to none. I don’t want any.’ Benjamin took his pipe from his lips, and laughed till the tears ran down his face. ‘What a natural you are, Clemmy!’ he said, shaking his head, with an infinite relish of the joke, and wiping his eyes. Clemency, without the smallest inclination to dispute it, did the like, and laughed as heartily as he. ‘I can’t help liking you,’ said Mr. Britain; ‘you’re a regular good creature in your way, so shake hands, Clem. Whatever happens, I’ll always take notice of you, and be a friend to you.’ ‘Will you?’ returned Clemency. ‘Well! that’s very good of you.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ said Mr. Britain, giving her his pipe to knock the ashes out of it; ‘I’ll stand by you. Hark! That’s a curious noise!’ ‘Noise!’ repeated Clemency. ‘A footstep outside. Somebody dropping from the wall, it sounded like,’ said Britain. ‘Are they all abed up-stairs?’ ‘Yes, all abed by this time,’ she replied. ‘Didn’t you hear anything?’ ‘No.’ They both listened, but heard nothing. ‘I tell you what,’ said Benjamin, taking down a lantern. ‘I’ll have a look round, before I go to bed myself, for satisfaction’s sake. Undo the door while I light this, Clemmy.’