d was just
about to reply, when the door opened, and in come a lady, as white as
ever I see any one in my days, except about the eyes, which were red with
crying. She walked in, as firm as I could have done; shut the door
carefully after her, and sat herself down with a face as composed as if
it was made of stone. "What is the matter, gentlemen?" says she, in a
surprisin' steady voice. "_Is_ this an execution?" "It is, mum," says
Fixem. The lady looked at him as steady as ever: she didn't seem to have
understood him. "It is, mum," says Fixem again; "this is my warrant of
distress, mum," says he, handing it over as polite as if it was a
newspaper which had been bespoke arter the next gentleman.

'The lady's lip trembled as she took the printed paper. She cast her eye
over it, and old Fixem began to explain the form, but saw she wasn't
reading it, plain enough, poor thing. "Oh, my God!" says she, suddenly
a-bursting out crying, letting the warrant fall, and hiding her face in
her hands. "Oh, my God! what will become of us!" The noise she made,
brought in a young lady of about nineteen or twenty, who, I suppose, had
been a-listening at the door, and who had got a little boy in her arms:
she sat him down in the lady's lap, without speaking, and she hugged the
poor little fellow to her bosom, and cried over him, till even old Fixem
put on his blue spectacles to hide the two tears, that was a-trickling
down, one on each side of his dirty face. "Now, dear ma," says the young
lady, "you know how much you have borne. For all our sakes--for pa's
sake," says she, "don't give way to this!"--"No, no, I won't!" says the
lady, gathering herself up, hastily, and drying her eyes; "I am very
foolish, but I'm better now--much better." And then she roused herself
up, went with us into every room while we took the inventory, opened all
the drawers of her own accord, sorted the children's little clothes to
make the work easier; and, except doing everything in a strange sort of
hurry, seemed as calm and composed as if nothing had happened. When we
came down-stairs again, she hesitated a minute or two, and at last says,
"Gentlemen," says she, "I am afraid I have done wrong, and perhaps it may
bring you into trouble. I secreted just now," she says, "the only
trinket I have left in the world--here it is." So she lays down on the
table a little miniature mounted in gold. "It's a miniature," she says,
"of my poor dear father! I li