Before Nell retired to rest in her poor garret she was a little startled by the appearance of Mr. Thomas Codlin at her door. "Nothing's the matter, my dear; only I'm your friend. Perhaps you haven't thought so, but it's me that's your friend--not him. I'm the real, open-hearted man. Short's very well, and seems kind, but he overdoes it. Now, I don't." The child was puzzled, and could not tell what to say. "Take my advice; as long as you travel with us, keep as near me as you can. Recollect the friend. Codlin's the friend, not Short. Short's very well as far as he goes, but the real friend is Codlin--not Short." _III.--Jarley's Waxwork_ Codlin and Short stuck so close to Nell and her grandfather that the child grew frightened, especially at the unwonted attentions of Mr. Thomas Codlin. The bustle of the racecourse enabled them to escape, and once more the travellers were alone. It was a few days later when, as the afternoon was wearing away, they came upon a caravan drawn up by the roadside. It was a smart little house upon wheels, not a gipsy caravan, for at the open door sat a Christian lady, stout and comfortable, taking her tea upon a drum covered with a white napkin. "Hey!" cried the lady of the caravan, seeing the old man and the child walking slowly by. "Yes, to be sure I saw you there with my own eyes! And very sorry I was to see you in company with a Punch; a low, practical, wulgar wretch that people should scorn to look at." "I was not there by choice," returned the child. "We don't know our way, and the two men were very kind to us, and let us travel with them. Do you know them, ma'am?" "Know 'em, child! Know _them_! But you're young and inexperienced. Do I look as if I knowed 'em? Does the caravan look as if _it_ knowed 'em?" "No, ma'am, no. I beg your pardon." It was granted immediately. And then the lady of the caravan, finding the travellers were hungry, handed them a tea-tray with bread-and-butter and a knuckle of ham; and finding they were tired, took them into the caravan, which was bound for the nearest town, some eight miles off. As the caravan moved slowly along, its owner began to talk to Nell, and presently pulled out a large roll of canvas. "There child," she said, "read that!" Nell read aloud the inscription, "Jarley's Waxwork." "That's me," said the lady complacently. "I never saw any waxwork, ma'am," said Nell. "Is it funnier than Punch?" "Funnier!" said Mrs. Jarley, in a shrill voice. "It is not funny at all. It's calm and--what's that word again--critical? No--classical, that's it--it's calm and classical." In the course of the journey Mrs. Jarley was so taken with the child that she proposed to engage her, and as Nell would not be separated from her grandfather, he was included in the agreement.