ave contemplated all these mute but expressive appeals to the purest
feelings of our nature, might have thawed the frost of age, and added
new and inextinguishable fuel to the fire of youth.

The waiter was touched. Waiter as he was, he had human passions and
feelings, and he looked very hard at Miss Squeers as he handed the
muffins.

'Is my pa in, do you know?' asked Miss Squeers with dignity.

'Beg your pardon, miss?'

'My pa,' repeated Miss Squeers; 'is he in?'

'In where, miss?'

'In here--in the house!' replied Miss Squeers. 'My pa--Mr Wackford
Squeers--he's stopping here. Is he at home?'

'I didn't know there was any gen'l'man of that name in the house, miss'
replied the waiter. 'There may be, in the coffee-room.'

MAY BE. Very pretty this, indeed! Here was Miss Squeers, who had been
depending, all the way to London, upon showing her friends how much
at home she would be, and how much respectful notice her name and
connections would excite, told that her father MIGHT be there! 'As if he
was a feller!' observed Miss Squeers, with emphatic indignation.

'Ye'd betther inquire, mun,' said John Browdie. 'An' hond up another
pigeon-pie, will 'ee? Dang the chap,' muttered John, looking into the
empty dish as the waiter retired; 'does he ca' this a pie--three yoong
pigeons and a troifling matther o' steak, and a crust so loight that you
doant know when it's in your mooth and when it's gane? I wonder hoo many
pies goes to a breakfast!'

After a short interval, which John Browdie employed upon the ham and
a cold round of beef, the waiter returned with another pie, and the
information that Mr Squeers was not stopping in the house, but that he
came there every day and that directly he arrived, he should be shown
upstairs. With this, he retired; and he had not retired two minutes,
when he returned with Mr Squeers and his hopeful son.

'Why, who'd have thought of this?' said Mr Squeers, when he had saluted
the party and received some private family intelligence from his
daughter.

'Who, indeed, pa!' replied that young lady, spitefully. 'But you see
'Tilda IS married at last.'

'And I stond threat for a soight o' Lunnun, schoolmeasther,' said John,
vigorously attacking the pie.

'One of them things that young men do when they get married,' returned
Squeers; 'and as runs through with their money like nothing at all! How
much better wouldn't it be now, to save it up for the eddication of
any little boys, for inst