o you do, Lamps?"

To which, Lamps responded: "The gentleman for Nowhere! How do you DO,
sir?"

And they shook hands, to the greatest admiration and surprise of Lamps's
daughter.

"I have looked you up, half a dozen times since that night," said Barbox
Brothers, "but have never found you."

"So I've heerd on, sir, so I've heerd on," returned Lamps. "It's your
being noticed so often down at the Junction, without taking any train,
that has begun to get you the name among us of the gentleman for Nowhere.
No offence in my having called you by it when took by surprise, I hope,
sir?"

"None at all. It's as good a name for me as any other you could call me
by. But may I ask you a question in the corner here?"

Lamps suffered himself to be led aside from his daughter's couch, by one
of the buttons of his velveteen jacket.

"Is this the bedside where you sing your songs?"

Lamps nodded.

The gentleman for Nowhere clapped him on the shoulder; and they faced
about again.

"Upon my word, my dear," said Lamps then to his daughter, looking from
her to her visitor, "it is such an amaze to me, to find you brought
acquainted with this gentleman, that I must (if this gentleman will
excuse me) take a rounder."

Mr. Lamps demonstrated in action what this meant, by pulling out his oily
handkerchief rolled up in the form of a ball, and giving himself an
elaborate smear, from behind the right ear, up the cheek, across the
forehead, and down the other cheek to behind his left ear. After this
operation he shone exceedingly.

"It's according to my custom when particular warmed up by any agitation,
sir," he offered by way of apology. "And really, I am throwed into that
state of amaze by finding you brought acquainted with Phoebe, that
I--that I think I will, if you'll excuse me, take another rounder."
Which he did, seeming to be greatly restored by it.

They were now both standing by the side of her couch, and she was working
at her lace-pillow. "Your daughter tells me," said Barbox Brothers,
still in a half reluctant shamefaced way, "that she never sits up."

"No, sir, nor never has done. You see, her mother (who died when she was
a year and two months old) was subject to very bad fits, and as she had
never mentioned to me that she _was_ subject to fits, they couldn't be
guarded against. Consequently, she dropped the baby when took, and this
happened."

"It was very wrong of her," said Barbox Brothers, with a knitted