prays Barbara's mother in a
whisper to take her home.

'Some friend will rise up for us, mother,' cried Kit, 'I am sure. If
not now, before long. My innocence will come out, mother, and I shall
be brought back again; I feel confidence in that. You must teach
little Jacob and the baby how all this was, for if they thought I had
ever been dishonest, when they grew old enough to understand, it would
break my heart to know it, if I was thousands of miles away.--Oh! is
there no good gentleman here, who will take care of her!'

The hand slips out of his, for the poor creature sinks down upon the
earth, insensible. Richard Swiveller comes hastily up, elbows the
bystanders out of the way, takes her (after some trouble) in one arm
after the manner of theatrical ravishers, and, nodding to Kit, and
commanding Barbara's mother to follow, for he has a coach waiting,
bears her swiftly off.

Well; Richard took her home. And what astonishing absurdities in the
way of quotation from song and poem he perpetrated on the road, no man
knows. He took her home, and stayed till she was recovered; and,
having no money to pay the coach, went back in state to Bevis Marks,
bidding the driver (for it was Saturday night) wait at the door while
he went in for 'change.'

'Mr Richard, sir,' said Brass cheerfully, 'Good evening!'

Monstrous as Kit's tale had appeared, at first, Mr Richard did, that
night, half suspect his affable employer of some deep villany. Perhaps
it was but the misery he had just witnessed which gave his careless
nature this impulse; but, be that as it may, it was very strong upon
him, and he said in as few words as possible, what he wanted.

'Money?' cried Brass, taking out his purse. 'Ha ha! To be sure, Mr
Richard, to be sure, sir. All men must live. You haven't change for a
five-pound note, have you sir?'

'No,' returned Dick, shortly.

'Oh!' said Brass, 'here's the very sum. That saves trouble. You're
very welcome I'm sure.--Mr Richard, sir--' Dick, who had by this time
reached the door, turned round.

'You needn't,' said Brass, 'trouble yourself to come back any more,
Sir.'

'Eh?'

'You see, Mr Richard,' said Brass, thrusting his hands in his pockets,
and rocking himself to and fro on his stool, 'the fact is, that a man
of your abilities is lost, Sir, quite lost, in our dry and mouldy line.
It's terrible drudgery--shocking. I should say, now, that the stage,
or the--or the army, Mr Richard--or some