down an iron grating, and only fished up again with great
difficulty and by dint of much exertion. However, it was impossible to
scold her, as she was the manager's daughter, so Nicholas took it all in
perfect good humour, and walked on, with Miss Snevellicci, arm-in-arm on
one side, and the offending infant on the other.

The first house to which they bent their steps, was situated in
a terrace of respectable appearance. Miss Snevellicci's modest
double-knock was answered by a foot-boy, who, in reply to her inquiry
whether Mrs Curdle was at home, opened his eyes very wide, grinned very
much, and said he didn't know, but he'd inquire. With this he
showed them into a parlour where he kept them waiting, until the two
women-servants had repaired thither, under false pretences, to see the
play-actors; and having compared notes with them in the passage, and
joined in a vast quantity of whispering and giggling, he at length went
upstairs with Miss Snevellicci's name.

Now, Mrs Curdle was supposed, by those who were best informed on
such points, to possess quite the London taste in matters relating to
literature and the drama; and as to Mr Curdle, he had written a pamphlet
of sixty-four pages, post octavo, on the character of the Nurse's
deceased husband in Romeo and Juliet, with an inquiry whether he really
had been a 'merry man' in his lifetime, or whether it was merely his
widow's affectionate partiality that induced her so to report him. He
had likewise proved, that by altering the received mode of punctuation,
any one of Shakespeare's plays could be made quite different, and the
sense completely changed; it is needless to say, therefore, that he was
a great critic, and a very profound and most original thinker.

'Well, Miss Snevellicci,' said Mrs Curdle, entering the parlour, 'and
how do YOU do?'

Miss Snevellicci made a graceful obeisance, and hoped Mrs Curdle was
well, as also Mr Curdle, who at the same time appeared. Mrs Curdle was
dressed in a morning wrapper, with a little cap stuck upon the top
of her head. Mr Curdle wore a loose robe on his back, and his right
forefinger on his forehead after the portraits of Sterne, to whom
somebody or other had once said he bore a striking resemblance.

'I venture to call, for the purpose of asking whether you would put your
name to my bespeak, ma'am,' said Miss Snevellicci, producing documents.

'Oh! I really don't know what to say,' replied Mrs Curdle. 'It's not as
if the