s very plain,
besides, that they're not used to this way of life. Don't tell me that
handsome child has been in the habit of prowling about as she's done
these last two or three days. I know better. The old man ain't in his
right mind. Haven't you noticed how anxious he is always to get
on--furder away--furder away? Mind what I say, he has given his friends
the slip, and persuaded this delicate young creatur all along of her
fondness for him to be his guide--where to, he knows no more than the
man in the moon. I'm not a-going to stand that!"

"You're not a-going to stand that!" cried Mr. Codlin, glancing at the
clock, and counting the minutes to supper time.

"I," repeated Short, emphatically and slowly, "am not a-going to stand
it. I am not a-going to see this fair young child a-falling into bad
hands. Therefore, when they develop an intention of parting company from
us, I shall take measures for detaining of 'em, and restoring 'em to
their friends, who, I dare say, have had their disconsolation pasted up
on every wall in London by this time."

"Short," said Mr. Codlin, looking up with eager eyes, "it's possible
there may be uncommon good sense in what you've said. If there should be
a reward, Short, remember that we're partners in everything!"

Before Nell retired to rest in her poor garret she was a little startled
by the appearance of Mr. Thomas Codlin at her door.

"Nothing's the matter, my dear; only I'm your friend. Perhaps you
haven't thought so, but it's me that's your friend--not him. I'm the
real, open-hearted man. Short's very well, and seems kind, but he
overdoes it. Now, I don't."

The child was puzzled, and could not tell what to say.

"Take my advice; as long as you travel with us, keep as near me as you
can. Recollect the friend. Codlin's the friend, not Short. Short's very
well as far as he goes, but the real friend is Codlin--not Short."

_III.--Jarley's Waxwork_

Codlin and Short stuck so close to Nell and her grandfather that the
child grew frightened, especially at the unwonted attentions of Mr.
Thomas Codlin. The bustle of the racecourse enabled them to escape, and
once more the travellers were alone.

It was a few days later when, as the afternoon was wearing away, they
came upon a caravan drawn up by the roadside. It was a smart little
house upon wheels, not a gipsy caravan, for at the open door sat a
Christian lady, stout and comfortable, taking her tea upon a drum
covered with