ng her to a
swindler."

"And drive off poor Orlando," whimpered my girl.

"Silence! Miss," says Jemmy, fiercely.

"You insult the man whose father's property you inherited, and bring me
into this prison, without hope of leaving it: for he never can help us
after all your bad language." I said all this very smartly; for the fact
is, my blood was up at the time, and I determined to rate my dear girl
soundly.

"Oh! Sammy," said she, sobbing (for the poor thing's spirit was quite
broken), "it's all true; I've been very, very foolish and vain, and I've
punished my dear husband and children by my follies, and I do so,
so repent them!" Here Jemimarann at once burst out crying, and flung
herself into her mamma's arms, and the pair roared and sobbed for ten
minutes together. Even Tug looked queer: and as for me, it's a most
extraordinary thing, but I'm blest if seeing them so miserable didn't
make me quite happy.--I don't think, for the whole twelve months of
our good fortune, I had ever felt so gay as in that dismal room in the
Fleet, where I was locked up.

Poor Orlando Crump came to see us every day; and we, who had never
taken the slightest notice of him in Portland Place, and treated him so
cruelly that day at Beulah Spa, were only too glad of his company now.
He used to bring books for my girl, and a bottle of sherry for me; and
he used to take home Jemmy's fronts and dress them for her; and when
locking-up time came, he used to see the ladies home to their little
three-pair bedroom in Holborn, where they slept now, Tug and all. "Can
the bird forget its nest?" Orlando used to say (he was a romantic
young fellow, that's the truth, and blew the flute and read Lord Byron
incessantly, since he was separated from Jemimarann). "Can the bird, let
loose in eastern climes, forget its home? Can the rose cease to remember
its beloved bulbul?--Ah, no! Mr. Cox, you made me what I am, and what I
hope to die--a hairdresser. I never see a curling-irons before I entered
your shop, or knew Naples from brown Windsor. Did you not make over your
house, your furniture, your emporium of perfumery, and nine-and-twenty
shaving customers, to me? Are these trifles? Is Jemimarann a trifle? if
she would allow me to call her so. Oh, Jemimarann, your Pa found me
in the workhouse, and made me what I am. Conduct me to my grave, and I
never, never shall be different!" When he had said this, Orlando was so
much affected, that he rushed suddenly on his