heard from the head of the wide oak staircase, which
was at some distance from the narrow lobby.

'Chatterton, what do you mean, gossiping like any old woman at the
street door? Where's Sam?'

'Asleep,' was the short reply.

'Wake him, then. Bid him attend to the door. It's not your business that
I know of.'

'I should have thought it was, as I share his bed in the cellar. I
should have thought it was share and share alike.'

This was said with infinite scorn, betrayed in the tone of the musical
voice as well as by the contemptuous tossing back of the thick hair and
shrug of the shoulders, which were seen in sharp outline under a
threadbare coat hastily thrown on.

'Hold your tongue or I'll find means to make you. Who is it at the
door?'

'Come down and see for yourself, sir,' was the final reply, as Thomas
Chatterton departed whence he came and disappeared in the lower regions
of the house.

The door was still open, and Jack Henderson still stood there. He
ventured to advance to the foot of the stairs, and looking up he could
dimly discern the figure of a gentleman in a long nightgown, his head
surmounted by a huge nightcap, with a tassel dangling from its crown.

Mr Lambert held to the banister of the second flight of wide stairs, and
peered down at Jack, who looked up at him.

'I have brought a letter, sir, from a young lady to Madam Lambert. She
is a relative of yours, and wants to find a place in Bristol.'

'Relative, relative--tut, tut. Ah! I see you are Henderson's nephew.
Well, judging from his experience, relatives are like to be more plague
than profit.'

'Miss Palmer's mother was first cousin of Madam Lambert's, sir.'

'Oh! Well, I know nothing about it, but hand up the letter, and I will
see my mother has it, though I don't promise you she will think anything
of it.'

'I will call back for an answer, sir, about one o'clock.'

'Very well, very well. Here comes Mrs Symes, and I suppose we shall now
have a chance of breakfast.'

The open door now admitted a large and portly personage, who came every
morning to perform the duties of the household, assisted by the footboy
Sam, who wore a suit of livery and answered the door to clients who
might prefer to see lawyer Lambert at his private house rather than in
the somewhat cramped office in Corn Street.

Mr Lambert disappeared upstairs as the woman began to throw open
shutters and draw up blinds and let the light of the morning into the
house