mima, my dear," said Mrs Shuckleford one day, as the little family
in Number 4, Dull Street, sat round their evening meal, "I don't like
the looks of Mrs Cruden. It's my opinion she don't get enough to eat."

"Really, ma, how you talk!" replied the daughter. "The butcher's boy
left there this very afternoon. I saw him."

"I'm afraid, my dear, he didn't leave anything more filling than a bill.
In fact, I 'eard myself that the butcher told Mrs Marks he thought
Number 6 'ad gone far enough for 'im."

"Oh, ma! you don't mean to say they're in debt?" said Jemima, who, by
the way, had been somewhat more pensive and addicted to sitting by
herself since Reginald had gone north.

"Well, if it was only the butcher I heard it from I wouldn't take much
account of it, but Parker the baker 'as 'is doubts of them; so I 'eard
the Grinsons' maid tell Ford when I was in 'is shop this very day. And
I'm sure you've only to look at 'Orace's coat and 'at to see they must
be in debt: the poor boy looks a reg'lar scarecrow. It all comes, my
dear, of Reginald's going off and leaving them. Oh, 'ow I pity them
that 'as a wild son."

"Don't talk nonsense, ma," said Miss Jemima, firing up. "He's no more
wild than Sam here."

"You seem to know more about Reginald than most people, my dear," said
her mother significantly.

To the surprise of the mother and brother, Jemima replied to this
insinuation by bursting into tears and walking out of the room.

"Did you ever see the like of that? She always takes on if any one
mentions that boy's name; and she's old enough to be his aunt, too!"

"The sooner she cures herself of that craze the better," said Sam,
pouring himself out some more tea. "She don't know quite so much about
him as I do!"

"Why, what do you know about 'im, then?" inquired Mrs Shuckleford, in
tones of curiosity.

"Never you mind; we don't talk business out of the office. All I can
tell you is, he's a bad lot."

"Poor Mrs Cruden! no wonder she takes on. What an infliction a wicked
son is to a mother, Sam!"

"That'll do," said the dutiful Sam. "What do you know about it? I tell
you what, ma, you're thick enough with Number 6. You'd better draw off
a bit."

"Oh, Sam, why so?"

"Because I give you the tip, that's all. The old lady may not be in it,
but I don't fancy the connection."

"But, Sam, she's starving herself, and 'Orace is in rags."

"Send her in a rump-steak and a suit of my old togs by the house