Susan took the extreme corner of a chair, with a stately and ceremonious aspect.

`I never was so glad to see anybody in all my life; now really I never was, Miss Nipper,' said Jemima.

Susan relaxing, took a little more of the chair, and smiled graciously.

`Do untie your bonnet-strings, and make yourself at home, Miss Nipper, please,' entreated Jemima. `I am afraid it's a poorer place than you're used to; but yoy'll make allowances, I'm sure.'

The black-eyed was so softened by this deferential behaviour, that she caught up little Miss Toodle who was running past, and took her to Banbury Cross immediately.

`But where's my pretty boy?' said Polly. `My poor fellow? I came all this way to see him in his new clothes.'

`Ah what a pity!' cried Jemima. `He'll break his heart, when he hears his mother has been here. He's at school, Polly.'

`Gone already!'

`Yes. He went for the first time yesterday, for fear he should lose any learning. But it's half-holding, Polly: if you could only stop till he comes home--you and Miss Nipper, least-ways,' said Jemima, mindful in good time of the dignity of the black-eyed.

`And how does he look, Jemima, bless him!' faltered Polly.

`Well, really he don't look so bad as you'd suppose,' returned Jemima.

`Ah!' said Polly, with emotion, `I knew his legs must be too short.'

`His legs is short,' returned Jemima; `especially behind; but they'll get longer, Polly, every day.'

It was a slow, prospective kind of consolation; but the cheerfulness and good nature with which it was administered, gave it a value it did not intrinsically possess. After a moment's silence, Polly asked, in a more sprightly manner:

`And where's Father, Jemima dear?'--for by that patriarchal appellation, Mr. Toodle was generally known in the family.

`There again!' said Jemima. `What a pity! Father took his dinner with him this morning, and isn't coming home till night. But he's always talking of you, Polly, and telling the children about you; and is the peaceablest, patientest, best-temperedst soul in the world, as he always was and will be!'

`Thankee, Jemima,' cried the simple Polly; delighted by the speech, and disappointed by the absence.

`Oh you needn't thank me, Polly,' said her sister, giving her a sound kiss upon the cheek, and then dancing little Paul cheerfully. `I say the same of you sometimes, and think it too.'

In spite of the double disappointment, it was impossible to regard in the light of a failure a visit which was greeted with such a reception; so the sisters talked hopefully about family matters, and about Biler, and about all his brothers and sisters: while the black-eyed, having performed several journeys to Banbury Cross and back, took sharp note of the furniture, the Dutch clock, the cupboard, the castle on the mantel- piece with red and green windows in it, susceptible of illumination by a candle-end within; and the pair of small black velvet kittens, each with a lady's reticule in its mouth; regarded by the Staggs's Gardeners as prodigies of imitative art. The conversation soon becoming general lest the black-eyed should go off at score and turn sarcastic, that young lady related to Jemima a summary of everything she knew concerning Mr. Dombey, his prospects, family, pursuits, and character. Also an exact inventory of her