h an expression of face in which a great number of
opposite ingredients, such as mischief, cunning, malice, triumph,
and patient expectation, were all mixed up together in a kind of
physiognomical punch, Miss Miggs composed herself to wait and listen,
like some fair ogress who had set a trap and was watching for a nibble
from a plump young traveller.

She sat there, with perfect composure, all night. At length, just upon
break of day, there was a footstep in the street, and presently she
could hear Mr Tappertit stop at the door. Then she could make out that
he tried his key--that he was blowing into it--that he knocked it on the
nearest post to beat the dust out--that he took it under a lamp to look
at it--that he poked bits of stick into the lock to clear it--that
he peeped into the keyhole, first with one eye, and then with the
other--that he tried the key again--that he couldn't turn it, and what
was worse, couldn't get it out--that he bent it--that then it was much
less disposed to come out than before--that he gave it a mighty twist
and a great pull, and then it came out so suddenly that he staggered
backwards--that he kicked the door--that he shook it--finally, that he
smote his forehead, and sat down on the step in despair.

When this crisis had arrived, Miss Miggs, affecting to be exhausted
with terror, and to cling to the window-sill for support, put out her
nightcap, and demanded in a faint voice who was there.

Mr Tappertit cried 'Hush!' and, backing to the road, exhorted her in
frenzied pantomime to secrecy and silence.

'Tell me one thing,' said Miggs. 'Is it thieves?'

'No--no--no!' cried Mr Tappertit.

'Then,' said Miggs, more faintly than before, 'it's fire. Where is it,
sir? It's near this room, I know. I've a good conscience, sir, and would
much rather die than go down a ladder. All I wish is, respecting my love
to my married sister, Golden Lion Court, number twenty-sivin, second
bell-handle on the right-hand door-post.'

'Miggs!' cried Mr Tappertit, 'don't you know me? Sim, you know--Sim--'

'Oh! what about him!' cried Miggs, clasping her hands. 'Is he in any
danger? Is he in the midst of flames and blazes! Oh gracious, gracious!'

'Why I'm here, an't I?' rejoined Mr Tappertit, knocking himself on the
breast. 'Don't you see me? What a fool you are, Miggs!'

'There!' cried Miggs, unmindful of this compliment. 'Why--so
it--Goodness, what is the meaning of--If you please, mim, here's--'

'No,