_Land._ Oh, no, your worship!—I thank your worship, though, as much as if I took it; but I just took my luncheon before I came up; or more proper, _my sandwich_, I should say, for the fashion’s sake, to be sure. A _luncheon_ won’t go down with nobody nowadays (_laughs_). I expect hostler and boots will be calling for their sandwiches just now (_laughs again_). I’m sure I beg your worship’s pardon for mentioning a _luncheon_. _Just._ Oh, Mrs. Bustle, the word’s a good word, for it means a good thing—ha! ha! ha! (_pulls out his watch_); but pray, is it luncheon time. Why, it’s past one, I declare; and I thought I was up in remarkably good time, too. _Land._ Well, and to be sure so it was, remarkably good time for your worship; but folks in our way must be up betimes, you know. I’ve been up and about these seven hours! _Just._ (_stretching_). Seven hours! _Land._ Ay, indeed—eight, I might say, for I am an early little body; though I say it that should not say it—I _am_ an early little body. _Just._ An early little body, as you say, Mrs. Bustle; so I shall have my goose-pie for dinner, hey? _Land._ For dinner, as sure as the clock strikes four—but I mustn’t stay prating, for it may be spoiling if I’m away; so I must wish your worship a good morning. (_She curtsies_.) _Just._ No ceremony—no ceremony; good Mrs. Bustle, your servant. _Enter_ WILLIAM, _to take away the chocolate_. _The Landlady is putting on her shawl_. _Just._ You may let that man know, William, that I have dispatched my _own_ business, and am at leisure for his now (_taking a pinch of snuff_). Hum! pray, William (_Justice leans back gravely_), what sort of a looking fellow is he, pray? _Will._ Most like a sort of travelling man, in my opinion, sir—or something that way, I take it. (_At these words the landlady turns round inquisitively_, _and delays_, _that she may listen_, _while she is putting on and pinning her shawl_.) _Just._ Hum! a sort of a travelling man. Hum! lay my books out open at the title Vagrant; and, William, tell the cook that Mrs. Bustle promises me the goose-pie for dinner. Four o’clock, do you hear? And show the old man in now. (_The Landlady looks eagerly towards the door_, _as it opens_, _and exclaims_,) _Land._ My old gentleman, as I hope to breathe! _Enter the_ OLD MAN. (_Lucy follows the Old Man on tiptoe_—_The Justice leans back and looks consequential_—_The Landlady sets her arms akimbo_—_The Old Man starts as he sees her_.) _Just._ What stops you, friend? Come forward, if you please. _Land._ (_advancing_). So, sir, is it you, sir? Ay, you little thought, I warrant ye, to meet me here with his worship; but there you reckoned without your host—Out of the frying-pan into the fire. _Just._ What is all this? What is this?