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

"Miss Sally couldn't kill me if she knowed 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 an'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 a boy from the public-house, who bore
a plate of bread and beef, and a great pot filled with choice purl.
Relieving the boy of his burden, and charging his little companion to
fasten the door 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, for you're not used to it. Well, is it good?"

"Oh, _isn't_ it!" said the small servant.

Mr. Swiveller appeared immensely gratified over her enjoyment, and when
she had satisfied her hunger, applied himself to teaching her the game,
which she soon learned tolerably well, being both sharp-witted
and cunning.

"Now," said Mr. Swiveller, "to make it seem more real and pleasant, I
shall call you the Marchioness, do you hear?"

The small servant nodded.

"Then, Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, "fire away!"

The Marchioness, holding her cards very tight in both hands, considered
which to play, and Mr. Swiveller, assuming the gay and fashionable air
which such society required, waited for her lead.

They had played several rubbers, when the striking of ten o'clock
rendered Mr. Swiveller mindful of the flight of time, and of the
expediency of withdrawing before Mr. Sampson and Miss Sally
Brass returned.

"With which object in view, Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller gravely. "I
shall ask your ladyship's permission to put the board in my pocket, and
to retire. The Baron Sampsono Brasso and his fair sist