ill me, if she know'd I come up here.'

'Have you got a fire down-stairs?' said Dick.

'A very little one,' replied the small servant.

'Miss Sally couldn't kill me if she know'd I went down there, so I'll
come,' said Richard, putting the cards into his pocket. 'Why, how thin
you are! What do you mean by it?'

'It ain't my fault.'

'Could you eat any bread and meat?' said Dick, taking down his hat.
'Yes? Ah! I thought so. Did you ever taste beer?' 'I had a sip of it
once,' said the small servant.

'Here's a state of things!' cried Mr Swiveller, raising his eyes to the
ceiling. 'She never tasted it--it can't be tasted in a sip! Why, how
old are you?'

'I don't know.'

Mr Swiveller opened his eyes very wide, and appeared thoughtful for a
moment; then, bidding the child mind the door until he came back,
vanished straightway.

Presently, he returned, followed by the boy from the public-house, who
bore in one hand a plate of bread and beef, and in the other a great
pot, filled with some very fragrant compound, which sent forth a
grateful steam, and was indeed choice purl, made after a particular
recipe which Mr Swiveller had imparted to the landlord, at a period
when he was deep in his books and desirous to conciliate his
friendship. Relieving the boy of his burden at the door, and charging
his little companion to fasten it to prevent surprise, Mr Swiveller
followed her into the kitchen.

'There!' said Richard, putting the plate before her. 'First of all
clear that off, and then you'll see what's next.'

The small servant needed no second bidding, and the plate was soon
empty.

'Next,' said Dick, handing the purl, 'take a pull at that; but moderate
your transports, you know, for you're not used to it. Well, is it
good?'

'Oh! isn't it?' said the small servant.

Mr Swiveller appeared gratified beyond all expression by this reply,
and took a long draught himself, steadfastly regarding his companion
while he did so. These preliminaries disposed of, he applied himself
to teaching her the game, which she soon learnt tolerably well, being
both sharp-witted and cunning.

'Now,' said Mr Swiveller, putting two sixpences into a saucer, and
trimming the wretched candle, when the cards had been cut and dealt,
'those are the stakes. If you win, you get 'em all. If I win, I get
'em. To make it seem more real and pleasant, I shall call you the
Marchioness, do you hear?'

The small servant nodded.

'The