An officer whom Mr. Mills examined, deposed thus:—"To return to lodging-houses, there are cheap ones in all towns; most of them have two sorts of kitchens. The labourers and hawkers live in a better room, and pay fourpence a night for their bed, halfpenny for coals, halfpenny for the use of plates and hot water, and a halfpenny for the cooking apparatus. Regular beggars, the low sort of cadger fellows, live in the other kitchen, and pay a halfpenny for coals, and have nothing found them. The beggars go on very bad at night in the lodging-houses. They can make 5_s._ a day in the country by begging, let alone what they make by thieving. They never think of work, unless they can contrive to carry something in hopes of an opportunity to slip off with it." And it is in such dens as these that honest poverty must seek shelter and a bed! [Illustration] CHAPTER XXVI. THE LADY'S-MAID. In the meantime Mr. Frank Curtis had met the buxom Charlotte, according to appointment, in Conduit Street. The youthful lady's-maid, who had not numbered quite nineteen years, but who concealed a warm temperament and a disposition ripe for wanton mischief, beneath a staid and serious demeanour, when in the presence of her mistress or of those in whose eyes it was prudent to be looked upon as "a very prudent and steady young woman,"—the youthful lady's-maid, we say, walked quietly along the street, and pretended not to notice Mr. Curtis, who was leaning against a lamp-post, smoking a cigar. But the light of the lamp fell upon her pretty countenance; and he, having immediately recognised her, stretched out his hand and caught her by the shawl, saying, "Well, Miss—do you mean to pretend you didn't see me?" "Lor'! you there now!" exclaimed Charlotte, affecting to be quite surprised at this encounter. "Just as if you thought I shouldn't come!" cried Frank, laughing. "But take my arm, my dear; and though this very arm has often supported duchesses—and marchionesses—and even on one occasion the young and beautiful queen of the Red-Skin Indians,—yet I don't know that it was ever more agreeably pressed than by your pretty little fingers." "How fine you do talk!" said Charlotte, by no means displeased with the compliment. "But where are you going?" "Oh! I'll show you, my dear," returned Frank, as he led her along. "And now tell me—has anything happened in respect to you know what?" "Yes—a great deal," answered Charlotte. "But here I am walking with a gentleman whose very name I don't even know! Isn't it odd?" "Very, my dear. I will, however, soon satisfy you on that head. My name is _Mr. Curtis_ to the world—but _Frank_ to you; and some day or another I hope to be Baron Dumplington. But what was it that you had to tell me?"