re isn't such a place in
London for life as the Borough; and though I say it, there aren't many
more places in the Borough where there's more life than at Dabb's. Now
then, mount."

Andrew assumed his new position. Fortunately for him, he was, like
many other youths of his bent, rather quick at arithmetic; Mr. Dabb was
not very busy, and whatever his faults may have been, was by no means
disposed to be hard upon a beginner. Still the day was insufferably
long, and he rejoiced with a foolish extravagance of delight when the
hour came for going home. There was nothing exhilarating in the
streets through which he raced: there was no certainty of anything
particularly pleasant in Nelson Square, and the morrow would inevitably
be as to-day. But still he was glad; and as for the morrow, he did not
see it.

At three o'clock Miriam called on her aunt. As she passed through the
shop she saw her brother, but it was full of people, and she could not
speak to him. She found Mrs. Babb still in bed with her nerves in
disorder; other things were in disorder too, and Miriam particularly
wondered at the dishevelled condition of Mrs. Dabb's hair, nightcaps
being the custom at Cowfold for all people who were not girls nor boys.
Miriam was not an orderly person, as we know, but Mrs. Dabb's room was
a surprise to her. In one corner was an old green sofa, on which
clothes were thrown; on the top of the clothes was a tray with some
half-eaten bread and butter, a piece of bacon, and some tea things--we
will not, however, go any further.

"I am glad you've come, my dear," said Mrs. Dabb, "although I am afraid
I shall not be able to see you so often as I could wish, for my health
is not good, and when I am better there is so much to be done."

Miriam thought that if this might be true, there was no reason to put
it in the forefront of the reception.

"Your brother, I believe, will do very well. It must be a great relief
to him to be freed from his mechanical labours in a provincial town,
and to find himself in a more extended circle."

Miriam thanked her aunt, and said that she was sure her uncle would be
kind.

"Yes, he will be kind; although I should not say that kindness is the
one thing prominent in him. In such large commercial undertakings the
feelings are not developed. I am often sensible of it. There is no
response in your uncle to what is best in me, yet I must not complain.
Perhaps if we had children it might have