"Most of whichever costis most," answered Michael, with simplicity. Thereon he felt himself taken by the arm, and turning, saw the man's face looking close at him. It was the sort of face that makes the end of a dream a discomfort to the awakener. "Now, you young beggar!--_where_ have you seen me afore? I ain't going to hurt you. You tell up straight and tell the truth." "Not onlest you leave hold of my arm!" "You do like he says, Mr. Wix.... Now you tell Mr. Wix, Micky. _He_ won't hurt you." Thus Miss Julia, procuring liberty for the hand to receive the half-and-half she was balancing its foam on. Michael rubbed the arm with his free hand as he took the brown jug, to express resentment in moderation. But he answered his questioner:--"Round in Sappses Court beyont the Dials acrost Oxford Street keepin' to your left off Tottenham Court Road. You come to see for a widder, and there warn't no widder for yer. Mean to say there was?" "Where I sent you, Mr. Wix," said Miss Julia. "To Sapps Court, where Mrs. Treadwell directed me--where her nephew lives. That's this boy's father. You'll find that right." "Your Mrs. Treadmill, _she's_ all right. Sapps Court's all right of itself. But it ain't the Court I was tracking out. If it was, they'd have known the name of Daverill. Why--the place ain't no bigger than a prison yard! About the length of down your back-garden to the water's edge. It's the wrong Court, and there you have it in a word. She's in Capps Court or Gapps Court--some * * * of a Court or other--not Sapps." A metaphor has to be omitted here, as it might give offence. It was not really a well-chosen or appropriate one, and is no loss to the text. "What's this boy's name, and no lies?" he added after muttering to himself on the same lines volcanically. "How often do you want to be told _that_, Mr. Wix? This boy's Micky Rackstraw, lives with his grandmother next door.... Well--her sister then! It's all as one. Ain't you, Micky?" "Ah! Don't live there, though. Comes easy-like, now and again. Like the noospapers." "He's a young liar, then. Told me his name was Ikey." Miss Hawkins pointed out that Ikey and Micky were substantially identical. But she was unable to make the same claim for Rackstraw and Ekins, when told that Micky had laid claim to the latter. She waived the point and conducted the beer-bearer back the way he came, handing him the brown jug over the wall, not to spill it. But she suggested, in consideration of the high quality of the half-and-half, that her next-door neighbour might oblige by stepping in by the private entrance, to speak concerning Sapps Court and its inhabitants; all known to her more or less, no doubt. Which Aunt Elizabeth was glad to do, seeing that the cherry-tart was only just put in the oven, and she could spare that few minutes without risk.