ly large and slipshod, flew
off every now and then, and were difficult to find again, among the
crowd of passengers. Indeed, the poor little creature experienced so
much trouble and delay from having to grope for these articles of dress
in mud and kennel, and suffered in these researches so much jostling,
pushing, squeezing and bandying from hand to hand, that by the time she
reached the street in which the notary lived, she was fairly worn out
and exhausted, and could not refrain from tears.

But to have got there at last was a great comfort, especially as there
were lights still burning in the office window, and therefore some hope
that she was not too late. So the Marchioness dried her eyes with the
backs of her hands, and, stealing softly up the steps, peeped in
through the glass door.

Mr Chuckster was standing behind the lid of his desk, making such
preparations towards finishing off for the night, as pulling down his
wristbands and pulling up his shirt-collar, settling his neck more
gracefully in his stock, and secretly arranging his whiskers by the aid
of a little triangular bit of looking glass. Before the ashes of the
fire stood two gentlemen, one of whom she rightly judged to be the
notary, and the other (who was buttoning his great-coat and was
evidently about to depart immediately) Mr Abel Garland.

Having made these observations, the small spy took counsel with
herself, and resolved to wait in the street until Mr Abel came out, as
there would be then no fear of having to speak before Mr Chuckster, and
less difficulty in delivering her message. With this purpose she
slipped out again, and crossing the road, sat down upon a door-step
just opposite.

She had hardly taken this position, when there came dancing up the
street, with his legs all wrong, and his head everywhere by turns, a
pony. This pony had a little phaeton behind him, and a man in it; but
neither man nor phaeton seemed to embarrass him in the least, as he
reared up on his hind legs, or stopped, or went on, or stood still
again, or backed, or went side-ways, without the smallest reference to
them--just as the fancy seized him, and as if he were the freest animal
in creation. When they came to the notary's door, the man called out
in a very respectful manner, 'Woa then'--intimating that if he might
venture to express a wish, it would be that they stopped there. The
pony made a moment's pause; but, as if it occurred to him that to stop