o hard, he had resolved, but he would have a parting word
with charming Dolly Varden.

He went out by Islington and so on to Highgate, and sat on many stones
and gates, but there were no voices in the bells to bid him turn. Since
the time of noble Whittington, fair flower of merchants, bells have come
to have less sympathy with humankind. They only ring for money and on
state occasions. Wanderers have increased in number; ships leave the
Thames for distant regions, carrying from stem to stern no other cargo;
the bells are silent; they ring out no entreaties or regrets; they are
used to it and have grown worldly.

Joe bought a roll, and reduced his purse to the condition (with a
difference) of that celebrated purse of Fortunatus, which, whatever were
its favoured owner's necessities, had one unvarying amount in it. In
these real times, when all the Fairies are dead and buried, there are
still a great many purses which possess that quality. The sum-total they
contain is expressed in arithmetic by a circle, and whether it be added
to or multiplied by its own amount, the result of the problem is more
easily stated than any known in figures.

Evening drew on at last. With the desolate and solitary feeling of one
who had no home or shelter, and was alone utterly in the world for the
first time, he bent his steps towards the locksmith's house. He had
delayed till now, knowing that Mrs Varden sometimes went out alone,
or with Miggs for her sole attendant, to lectures in the evening; and
devoutly hoping that this might be one of her nights of moral culture.

He had walked up and down before the house, on the opposite side of the
way, two or three times, when as he returned to it again, he caught a
glimpse of a fluttering skirt at the door. It was Dolly's--to whom else
could it belong? no dress but hers had such a flow as that. He plucked
up his spirits, and followed it into the workshop of the Golden Key.

His darkening the door caused her to look round. Oh that face! 'If it
hadn't been for that,' thought Joe, 'I should never have walked into
poor Tom Cobb. She's twenty times handsomer than ever. She might marry a
Lord!'

He didn't say this. He only thought it--perhaps looked it also. Dolly
was glad to see him, and was SO sorry her father and mother were away
from home. Joe begged she wouldn't mention it on any account.

Dolly hesitated to lead the way into the parlour, for there it was
nearly dark; at the same time she h