g on it came through the
aperture, and felt about.

The mite stood firm, but the big washerwoman gave signs of agitation that
promised to end in a scream.

Nancy put her hand roughly before the woman's mouth. "Hold your tongue,
ye great soft--" And, without finishing her sentence, she darted to the
chimney and seized the hand with both her own and pulled it with such
violence that the wrist followed it through the masonry, and a roar was
heard.

"Hold on to my waist, Polly," she cried. "Jenny, take the poker, and that
string, and tie his hand to it while we hold on. Quick! quick! Are ye
asleep?"

Thus adjured, the mite got the poker against the wall and tried to tie
the wrist to it.

This, however, was not easy, the hand struggled so desperately.

However, pulling is a matter of weight rather than muscle. And the weight
of the two women pulling downward overpowered the violent struggles of
the man; and the mite contrived to tie the poker to the wrist, and repeat
the ligatures a dozen times in a figure of eight.

Then the owner of the hand, who had hitherto shown violent strength,
taken at a disadvantage, now showed intelligence. Convinced that skill as
well as force were against him, he ceased to struggle and became quite
quiet.

The women contemplated their feat with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

When they had feasted a reasonable time on the imprisoned hand, and two
of them, true to their sex, had scrutinized a green stone upon one of the
fingers, to see whether it was real or false, Nancy took them by the
shoulders, and bundled them good-humoredly out of the room.

She then lowered the gas and came out, and locked the room up, and put
the key in her pocket.

"I'll have my supper with you," said she. "Come, Jenny, I'm cook; and you
make the kitchen as a body could eat off it, for I expect vicitors."

"La, ma'am," said the mite; "he can't get out of the chimbly to visit hus
through the street door."

"No, girl," said Nancy. "But he can send a hambassador; so Show her heyes
and plague her art, as the play says, for of all the dirty kitchens give
me hers. I never was there but once, and my slipper come off for the
muck, a sticking to a body like bird-lime."

There was a knock at Nancy's street door; the little servant, full of
curiosity, was for running to it on the instant. But Nancy checked her.

"Take your time," said she. "It is only a lodging-house keeper."

CHAPTER LXIV.

SIR EDWARD