ate about it here.

"A note, boy, from Mr Auberly?" exclaimed Miss Tippet, with a beaming
smile; "give it me--thank you."

She opened it and read attentively, while Master Willie glanced round
the parlour and took mental notes. Miss Emma Ward sat down on a stool
in the window, ostensibly to "do sums," but really to draw faces, all of
which bore a strong caricatured resemblance to Willie, at whom she
glanced slyly over the top of her slate.

Matty remained standing at the door to hear what the note was about.
She did not pretend to busy herself about anything. There was no
subterfuge in Matty. She had been Miss Tippet's confidential servant
before entering the service of Mr Auberly, and her extremely short stay
in Beverly Square had not altered that condition. She had come to feel
that she had a right to know all Miss Tippet's affairs, and so waited
for information.

"Ah!" exclaimed Miss Tippet, still reading, "yes; `get him a situation
in your brother's office,' (oh, certainly, I'll be sure to get that);
`he seems smart, I might almost say impu--' Ahem! Yes, well--."

"Boy," said Miss Tippet, turning suddenly to Willie, "your name is
William Willders, I believe?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, William, Mr Auberly, my relative, asks me to get you into my
brother's--my brother's, what's 'is name--office. Of course, I shall be
happy to try. I am always extremely happy to do anything for--yes, I
suppose of course you can write, and, what d'ye call it--count--you can
do arithmetic?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Willie.

"And you can spell--eh? I hope you can _spell_, Edward, a--I mean
Thomas--is it, or William?"

Miss Tippet looked at Willie so earnestly and put this question in tones
so solemn that he was much impressed, and felt as if all his earthly
hopes hung on his reply, so he admitted that he could spell.

"Good," continued Miss Tippet. "You are, I suppose, in rather poor
circumstances. Is your father poor?"

"He's dead, ma'am; was drowned."

"Oh! shocking, that's very sad. Was your mother drowned, too?"

"No, ma'am, she's alive and well--at least she's well for _her_, but she
an't over strong. That's why I want to get work, that I may help her;
and she wants me to be a clerk in a office, but I'd rather be a fireman.
You couldn't make me a fireman, could you, ma'am?"

At this point Willie caught Miss Ward gazing intently at him over the
top of her slate, so he threw her into violent confusion by winki