'And allow me to
introduce _you_,' he said, turning to me, 'to the real original
Natura Mystica,--she who for ages upon ages has been trying by her
funny goings-on to teach us that "the _Principium hylarchicum_ of the
cosmos" (to use the simple phraseology of a great spiritualistic
painter) is the benign principle of joke.'

The woman made me another curtsey. 'You forget your exalted position,
Mrs. Gudgeon,' said Cyril; 'when a mystic goddess-queen is so
condescending as to curtsey she should be careful not to bend too
low. Man is a creature who can never with safety be treated with too
much respect.'

'We's all so modest in Primrose Court, that's the wust on us,'
replied the woman. 'But, Muster Cyril, sir, I don't think you've
noticed that the queen's _t'other_ eye's got dry now.'

Cyril gravely poured her out a glass of foaming ale from a bottle
that stood upon a little Indian bamboo-table, and handed it to her
carefully over the silks, saying to me,

'Her majesty's elegant way of hinting that she likes to wet both
eyes!'

Such foolery as this and at such a time irritated me sorely; but
there was no help for it now. Whether I should or should not open to
him the subject that had taken me thither, I must, I saw, let him
have his humour till the woman was dismissed.

'And now, goddess,' said he, 'while I am doing justice to the design
of your nose--'

'You can't do that, sir,' interjected the creature, 'it's sich a
beauty, ha! ha! I allus say that when I do die, I shall die
a-larfin'. They calls me "Jokin' Meg" in Primrose Court. I shall die
a-larfin', they say in Primrose Court, and so I shall--unless I die
a-cryin',' she added in an utterly different and tragic voice which
greatly struck me.

'While I am trying to do justice to that beautiful bridge you must
tell my friend about yourself and your daughter, and how you and she
first became two shining lights in the art world of London.'

'You makes me blush,' said the woman, 'an' blow me if blushin' ain't
bin an' made _t'other_ eye dry.'

She then took another glass of ale, grinned, shook herself, as though
preparing for an effort, and said,

'Well you must know, sir, as my name's Meg Gudgeon, leaseways that
was my name till my darter chrissened me Mrs. Knocker, and I lives in
Primrose Court, Great Queen Street, and my reg'lar perfession is
a-sellin' coffee "so airly in the mornin'," and I've got a darter as
ain't quite so 'ansom as me, bein' the mora