A smile passed over the cobbler's lips. His stall was curiously built in front of a flight of steps leading down to a cellar, in which he lived, and as he sat at work on his platform his face was almost on a level with the pavement. Now, as Sally made reference to her tired and hungry condition, she peered into this cellar. It was dark and safe. If she and her baby could hide there, no one in the world would be able to separate them. "May I come in?" she begged. "Come along," said Seth. There was room on the platform for the children, and Sally, with her baby, joyfully squeezed in, and nestled in the corner, where they could see and be seen by the cobbler, but were almost quite hidden from the passers-by in the street. Seth Dumbrick then, reaching out his hand, opened a little cupboard on his right, and taking from it a loaf of bread, cut two thick slices, over which he spread a careful layer of dripping from a yellow basin. Sprinkling these liberally with salt, he gave them to the children, and proceeded with his work while they ate. Every movement he made was watched with admiration by Sally, and the disclosure of the cupboard containing food was to her something almost magical. Seth Dumbrick was a character in the neighbourhood. Not a person in Rosemary Lane was on visiting terms with him, and the children, as they passed and repassed, were in the habit of casting longing looks into the dark shadows of the cellar which had never yet received a guest, and which was popularly supposed to contain rare and precious deposits. The circumstance of his having been seen at various times carrying bottles and jars with living creatures in them imparted an additional interest to his habitation. He was never seen in a public-house or a place of worship. Everything in this man's face was on a grand scale: there was not a mean feature in it. His lips were full and powerful, his nose was large and of a good shape, his great grey eyes had in them a light and depth which were not easily fathomed, and but for his forehead, which hung over his eyebrows like a precipice, he would have been a well-looking man. But this forehead was of so monstrous a bulk that it engrossed the attention of the observer, and except to those with keen and penetrating insight, destroyed all harmony of feature in the face of the man. His flesh was not over clean; his hands were as hard as horn; he had a week's bristles on his chin, and an old red nightcap on his head. Before the children had finished their slices of bread-and-dripping, Seth, bending forward, took Sally's boots from her feet, and examined them. They were in sad need of repair, and without a word, Seth began to patch and hammer away at them. Sally's eyes glistened with grateful pleasure. "And now about that dream of yours, Sally," said Seth Dumbrick, as Sally, after partaking of the last mouthful of bread, wiped her lips with her hand. "Did I have a gold-laced hat and silk stockings on?"