VANCE.--“Did he take all his goods with him?” COBBLER.--“Barrin’ an old box,--nothing in it, I expect, but theatre rubbish,--play-books, paints, an old wig, and sick like. He has good clothes,--always had; and so has she, but they don’t make more than a bundle.” VANCE. “But surely you must know what the old fellow’s project is. He has got from me a great sum: what will he do with it?” COBBLER.--“Just what has been a-bothering me. What will he do with it? I cast a figure to know; could not make it out. Strange signs in Twelfth House. Enemies and Big Animals. Well, well, he’s a marbellous man, and if he warn’t a misbeliever in the crystal, I should say he was under Herschel; for you see, sir” (laying hold of Vance’s button, as he saw that gentleman turning to escape),--“you see Herschel, though he be a sinister chap eno’, specially in affairs connected with t’ other sex, disposes the native to dive into the mysteries of natur’. I’m a Herschel man, out and outer; born in March, and--” “As mad as its hares,” muttered Vance, wrenching his button from the Cobbler’s grasp, and impatiently striding off. But he did not effect his escape so easily, for, close at hand, just at the corner of the lane, a female group, headed by Merle’s gaunt housekeeper, had been silently collecting from the moment the two friends had paused at the Cobbler’s door. And this petticoated divan suddenly closing round the painter, one pulled him by the sleeve, another by the jacket, and a third, with a nose upon which somebody had sat in early infancy, whispered, “Please, sir, take my picter fust.” Vance stared aghast,--“Your picture, you drab!” Here another model of rustic charms, who might have furnished an ideal for the fat scullion in “Tristram Shandy,” bobbing a courtesy put in her rival claim. “Sir, if you don’t objex to coming into the kitching after the family has gone to bed, I don’t care if I lets you make a minnytur of me for two pounds.” “Miniature of you, porpoise!” “Polly, sir, not Porpus,--ax pardon. I shall clean myself, and I have a butyful new cap,--Honeytun, and--” “Let the gentleman go, will you?” said a third; “I am surprised at ye, Polly. The kitching, unbeknown! Sir, I’m in the nussery; yes, sir; and Alissus says you may take me any time, purvided you’ll take the babby, in the back parlour; yes, sir, No. 5 in the High Street. Mrs. Spratt,--yes, sir. Babby has had the small-pox; in case you’re a married gentleman with a family; quite safe there; yes, sir.”