His voice had dropped to the lower notes, and his last words were spoken in deep but gentle thunder. When he had finished, Mrs. Gambit dropped her chin and returned to practical business. "And pray, sir, what will Miss Kitty do?" Recalled to the facts of the case, the Doctor paused. His cheeks retracted, his breadth and height became perceptibly smaller. "What will she do? That is, indeed, a difficulty." "If," said Mrs. Gambit, "your honour is a prisoner----" "Woman!" he roared, "I enjoy the Liberties of the Fleet--the Liberties, do you hear? Prate not to me of prisoners. Is Dr. Shovel a man, think ye, to clap in a prison?" "Well, then, is Miss Kitty to live here?" She looked round in disgust. "Why, what a place is this for a young lady virtuously and godlily reared! Your ceiling is black with smoke; the windows are black with dirt; the walls are streaked with dirt; the floor is as thick with mud as the road--faugh! If your honour is a bishop, as you say you are, you can doubtless put the poor young lady, who is used to sweet air and clean floors, where she will get such--and that without profane swearing." The last remark was caused by language used at that moment outside the window by a man wheeling a barrow full of cabbages, which upset. While picking up the vegetables, he swore loudly, administering rebuke in a couple of oaths at least, and in some cases more, to every head of cabbage in turn. An unreflecting wretch indeed, to break a commandment upon a senseless vegetable! "Nay," I said, "my uncle will do what is best for me." "I will do for thee," he said, "what I can. This place is not fit for a young girl. All the morning it is wanted for my occupation. In the evening I am visited by gentlemen who seek me for certain merits, graces, or beauties of conversation in which I am said (although I boast not) to be endowed with gifts beyond those allotted to most men. No, child, thou must not stay here."