"Oh, it's _you_? yes; no one--do you mind--except Mr. Larkin, or Mr. Levi, or Mr. Goldshed, ever comes in to me--always charmed to see _you_, and _them_--but there ends my public; so, my dear lady, if any person should ask to see Mr. Dingwell, from New York in America, you'll simply say there's no such person here--yes--there's--_no_-- _such_--_person_--_here_--upon my honour. And you're no true woman if you don't say so with pleasure--because it's a fib." Sarah Rumble courtesied affirmatively. "I forgot to give you this note--my letter of introduction. Here, ma'am, take it, and read it, if you can. It comes from those eminent harpies, the Messrs. Goldshed and Levi--your landlords, aren't they?" Another courtesy from grave, dark-browed Miss Rumble acknowledged the fact. "It is pleasant to be accredited by such gentlemen--good landlords, I dare say?" "I've nothing to say against Mr. Levi; and I'm 'appy to say, sir, my rent's bin always paid up punctual," she said. "Yes, just so--capital landlord! charming tenant; and I suspect if you didn't, they'd find a way to make you--eh? Your coffee's not so bad--you may make it next time just a degree stronger, bitter as wormwood and verjuice, please--black and bitter, ma'am, as English prejudice. It isn't badly made, however--no, it _is_ really _good_. It isn't a common Christian virtue, making good coffee--the Mahometans have a knack of it, and you must be a bit of a genius, ma'am, for I think you'll make it very respectably by to-morrow evening, or at latest, by next year. You shall do everything well for me, madam. The Dingwells are always d--d flighty, wicked, unreasonable people, ma'am, and you'll find me a regular Dingwell, and _worse_, madam. Look at me--don't I look like a vampire. I tell you, ma'am, I've been buried, and they would not let me rest in my grave, and they've called me up by their infernal incantations, and here I am, ma'am, an evoked spirit. I have not read that bit of paper. How do they introduce me--as Mr. Dingwell, or Mr. Dingwell's ghost? I'm wound up in a sort of way; but I'm deficient in blood, ma'am, and in heat. You'll have to keep the fire up always like _this_, Mrs. Rumble. You'd better mind, or you'll have me a bit too like a corpse to be pleasant. Egad! I frighten myself in the glass, ma'am. There is what they call transfusion of blood _now_, ma'am, and a very sensible thing it is. Pray, don't you think so?" "I do suppose what you say's correct, sir."