s head.

'Perhaps a little damp and ague-ish?' said Quilp.

'Just damp enough to be cheerful, sir,' rejoined Brass. 'Nothing more,
sir, nothing more.'

'And Sally?' said the delighted dwarf. 'Does she like it?'

'She'll like it better,' returned that strong-minded lady, 'when she
has tea; so let us have it, and don't bother.'

'Sweet Sally!' cried Quilp, extending his arms as if about to embrace
her. 'Gentle, charming, overwhelming Sally.'

'He's a very remarkable man indeed!' soliloquised Mr Brass. 'He's
quite a Troubadour, you know; quite a Troubadour!'

These complimentary expressions were uttered in a somewhat absent and
distracted manner; for the unfortunate lawyer, besides having a bad
cold in his head, had got wet in coming, and would have willingly borne
some pecuniary sacrifice if he could have shifted his present raw
quarters to a warm room, and dried himself at a fire. Quilp,
however--who, beyond the gratification of his demon whims, owed Sampson
some acknowledgment of the part he had played in the mourning scene of
which he had been a hidden witness, marked these symptoms of uneasiness
with a delight past all expression, and derived from them a secret joy
which the costliest banquet could never have afforded him.

It is worthy of remark, too, as illustrating a little feature in the
character of Miss Sally Brass, that, although on her own account she
would have borne the discomforts of the Wilderness with a very ill
grace, and would probably, indeed, have walked off before the tea
appeared, she no sooner beheld the latent uneasiness and misery of her
brother than she developed a grim satisfaction, and began to enjoy
herself after her own manner. Though the wet came stealing through the
roof and trickling down upon their heads, Miss Brass uttered no
complaint, but presided over the tea equipage with imperturbable
composure. While Mr Quilp, in his uproarious hospitality, seated
himself upon an empty beer-barrel, vaunted the place as the most
beautiful and comfortable in the three kingdoms, and elevating his
glass, drank to their next merry-meeting in that jovial spot; and Mr
Brass, with the rain plashing down into his tea-cup, made a dismal
attempt to pluck up his spirits and appear at his ease; and Tom Scott,
who was in waiting at the door under an old umbrella, exulted in his
agonies, and bade fair to split his sides with laughing; while all this
was passing, Miss Sally Brass, unmindful of the