“The way with all of us? Then you don’t like me?”

“So-so,” replied Miss Wren, with a shrug and a laugh. “Don’t know much about you.”

“But I was not aware it was the way with all of us,” said Bradley, returning to the accusation, a little injured. “Won’t you say, some of us?”

“Meaning,” returned the little creature, “every one of you, but you. Hah! Now look this lady in the face. This is Mrs Truth. The Honorable. Full-dressed.”

Bradley glanced at the doll she held up for his observation — which had been lying on its face on her bench, while with a needle and thread she fastened the dress on at the back — and looked from it to her.

“I stand the Honorable Mrs T. on my bench in this corner against the wall, where her blue eyes can shine upon you,” pursued Miss Wren, doing so, and making two little dabs at him in the air with her needle, as if she pricked him with it in his own eyes; “and I defy you to tell me, with Mrs T. for a witness, what you have come here for.”

“To see Hexam’s sister.”

“You don’t say so!” retorted Miss Wren, hitching her chin. “But on whose account?”

“Her own.”

“O Mrs T.!” exclaimed Miss Wren. “You hear him!’

“To reason with her,” pursued Bradley, half humouring what was present, and half angry with what was not present; “for her own sake.”

“Oh Mrs T.!” exclaimed the dressmaker.

“For her own sake,” repeated Bradley, warming, “and for her brother’s, and as a perfectly disinterested person.”

“Really, Mrs T.,” remarked the dressmaker, “since it comes to this, we must positively turn you with your face to the wall.” She had hardly done so, when Lizzie Hexam arrived, and showed some surprise on seeing Bradley Headstone there, and Jenny shaking her little fist at him close before her eyes, and the Honorable Mrs T. with her face to the wall.

“Here’s a perfectly disinterested person, Lizzie dear,” said the knowing Miss Wren, “come to talk with you, for your own sake and your brother’s. Think of that. I am sure there ought to be no third party present at anything so very kind and so very serious; and so, if you’ll remove the third party upstairs, my dear, the third party will retire.”

Lizzie took the hand which the dolls” dressmaker held out to her for the purpose of being supported away, but only looked at her with an inquiring smile, and made no other movement.

“The third party hobbles awfully, you know, when she’s left to herself;” said Miss Wren, “her back being so bad, and her legs so queer; so she can’t retire gracefully unless you help her, Lizzie.”

“She can do no better than stay where she is,” returned Lizzie, releasing the hand, and laying her own lightly on Miss Jenny’s curls. And then to Bradley: “From Charley, sir?”

In an irresolute way, and stealing a clumsy look at her, Bradley rose to place a chair for her, and then returned to his own.