face.

'Something that'll do you good service, young feller,' replied his
journeyman, 'as you'll find. Keep that safe, and where you can lay your
hand upon it in an instant. And chalk "No Popery" on your door to-morrow
night, and for a week to come--that's all.'

'This is a genuine document,' said the locksmith, 'I know, for I have
seen the hand before. What threat does it imply? What devil is abroad?'

'A fiery devil,' retorted Sim; 'a flaming, furious devil. Don't you put
yourself in its way, or you're done for, my buck. Be warned in time, G.
Varden. Farewell!'

But here the two women threw themselves in his way--especially Miss
Miggs, who fell upon him with such fervour that she pinned him against
the wall--and conjured him in moving words not to go forth till he was
sober; to listen to reason; to think of it; to take some rest, and then
determine.

'I tell you,' said Mr Tappertit, 'that my mind is made up. My bleeding
country calls me and I go! Miggs, if you don't get out of the way, I'll
pinch you.'

Miss Miggs, still clinging to the rebel, screamed once vociferously--but
whether in the distraction of her mind, or because of his having
executed his threat, is uncertain.

'Release me,' said Simon, struggling to free himself from her chaste,
but spider-like embrace. 'Let me go! I have made arrangements for you in
an altered state of society, and mean to provide for you comfortably in
life--there! Will that satisfy you?'

'Oh Simmun!' cried Miss Miggs. 'Oh my blessed Simmun! Oh mim! what are
my feelings at this conflicting moment!'

Of a rather turbulent description, it would seem; for her nightcap
had been knocked off in the scuffle, and she was on her knees upon
the floor, making a strange revelation of blue and yellow curl-papers,
straggling locks of hair, tags of staylaces, and strings of it's
impossible to say what; panting for breath, clasping her hands, turning
her eyes upwards, shedding abundance of tears, and exhibiting various
other symptoms of the acutest mental suffering.

'I leave,' said Simon, turning to his master, with an utter disregard of
Miggs's maidenly affliction, 'a box of things upstairs. Do what you
like with 'em. I don't want 'em. I'm never coming back here, any more.
Provide yourself, sir, with a journeyman; I'm my country's journeyman;
henceforward that's MY line of business.'

'Be what you like in two hours' time, but now go up to bed,' returned
the locksmith, planting himself