d the Hanoverians he burst out laughing, and said these false
innocents must be made to fulfil their occupation in a proper manner.

"They came whining to me yesterday," he proceeded, "and I not only would
not give them anything, but I laughed them to scorn. They have got about
twelve guineas out of me on false pretences; they are as cunning sluts as
the Charpillon."

I told him what I had done the day before, and what I intended to offer:
twenty guineas for the first, and as much for each of the others, but
nothing to be paid in advance.

"I had the same idea myself, but I cried off, and I don't think you'll
succeed, as Lord Baltimore offered them forty apiece; that is two hundred
guineas in all, and the bargain has fallen through because they want the
money to be paid in advance. They paid him a visit yesterday, but found
him pitiless, for he has been taken in several times by them."

"We shall see what will happen when the mother is under lock and key;
I'll bet we shall have them cheaply."

I came home for dinner, and Goudar, who had just been at their house,
reported that the bailiff would only wait till four o'clock, that the two
eldest daughters had come back empty-handed, and that they had been
obliged to sell one of their dresses to buy a morsel of bread.

I felt certain that they would have recourse to me again, and I was
right. We were at dessert when they put in an appearance. I made them sit
down, and the eldest sister exhausted her eloquence to persuade me to
give them another three days' grace.

"You will find me insensible," said I, "unless you are willing to adopt
my plan. If you wish to hear it, kindly follow me into the next room."

She did so, leaving her sister with Goudar, and making her sit down on a
sofa beside me, I shewed her twenty guineas, saying,--

"These are yours; but you know on what terms?"

She rejected my offer with disdain, and thinking she might wish to salve
her virtue by being attacked, I set to work; but finding her resistance
serious I let her alone, and begged her to leave my house immediately.
She called to her sister, and they both went out.

In the evening, as I was going to the play, I called on my wine merchant
to hear the news. He told me that the mother had been taken to prison,
and that the youngest daughter had gone with her; but he did not know
what had become of the four others.

I went home feeling quite sad, and almost reproaching myself for not
having