was a — sort of a kind of a — nursery, and it might be “made to do.” “Made to do?” returned the Inexhaustible, administering more punishment, “what do you take me for?” And was then turned over on its back in Bella’s lap, and smothered with kisses.

“But really, John dear,” said Bella, flushed in quite a lovely manner by these exercises, “will the new house, just as it stands, do for baby? That’s the question.”

“I felt that to be the question,” he returned, “and therefore I arranged that you should come with me and look at it, to-morrow morning.” Appointment made, accordingly, for Bella to go up with him to- morrow morning; John kissed; and Bella delighted.

When they reached London in pursuance of their little plan, they took coach and drove westward. Not only drove westward, but drove into that particular westward division, which Bella had seen last when she turned her face from Mr. Boffin’s door. Not only drove into that particular division, but drove at last into that very street. Not only drove into that very street, but stopped at last at that very house.

“John dear!” cried Bella, looking out of window in a flutter. “Do you see where we are?”

“Yes, my love. The coachman’s quite right.”

The house-door was opened without any knocking or ringing, and John promptly helped her out. The servant who stood holding the door, asked no question of John, neither did he go before them or follow them as they went straight up-stairs. It was only her husband’s encircling arm, urging her on, that prevented Bella from stopping at the foot of the staircase. As they ascended, it was seen to be tastefully ornamented with most beautiful flowers.

“O John!” said Bella, faintly. “What does this mean?”

“Nothing, my darling, nothing. Let us go on.”

Going on a little higher, they came to a charming aviary, in which a number of tropical birds, more gorgeous in colour than the flowers, were flying about; and among those birds were gold and silver fish, and mosses, and water-lilies, and a fountain, and all manner of wonders.

“O my dear John!” said Bella. “What does this mean?”

“Nothing, my darling, nothing. Let us go on.”

They went on, until they came to a door. As John put out his hand to open it, Bella caught his hand.

“I don’t know what it means, but it’s too much for me. Hold me, John, love.”

John caught her up in his arm, and lightly dashed into the room with her.

Behold Mr. and Mrs. Boffin, beaming! Behold Mrs. Boffin clapping her hands in an ecstacy, running to Bella with tears of joy pouring down her comely face, and folding her to her breast, with the words: “My deary deary, deary girl, that Noddy and me saw married and couldn’t wish joy to, or so much as speak to! My deary, deary, deary, wife of John and mother of his little child! My loving loving, bright bright, Pretty Pretty! Welcome to your house and home, my deary!”