guests that would remain, with
apathetic impartiality. What was the use now of doing favour to one
lodger or disfavour to another? Let them take their mutton,--they
who would pay for it and they who would not. She would not have the
carving of many more joints in that house if Chumpend acted up to all
the threats which he had uttered to her that morning.

The reader may, perhaps, remember the little back room behind the
dining parlour. A description was given in some former pages of an
interview which was held between Amelia and her lover. It was in
that room that all the interviews of Mrs Roper's establishment had
their existence. A special room for interviews is necessary in all
households of a mixed nature. If a man lives alone with his wife,
he can have his interviews where he pleases. Sons and daughters,
even when they are grown up, hardly create the necessity of an
interview-chamber, though some such need may be felt if the daughters
are marriageable and independent in their natures. But when the
family becomes more complicated than this, if an extra young man be
introduced, or an aunt comes into residence, or grown up children
by a former wife interfere with the domestic simplicity, then such
accommodation becomes quite indispensable. No woman would think of
taking in lodgers without such a room; and this room there was at Mrs
Roper's, very small and dingy, but still sufficient,--just behind
the dining parlour and opposite to the kitchen stairs. Hither, after
dinner, Amelia was summoned. She had just seated herself between Mrs
Lupex and Miss Spruce, ready to do battle with the former because she
would stay, and with the latter because she would go, when she was
called out by the servant girl.

"Miss Mealyer, Miss Mealyer,--sh-sh-sh!" And Amelia, looking round,
saw a large red hand beckoning to her. "He's down there," said
Jemima, as soon as her young mistress had joined her, "and wants to
see you most partic'lar."

"Which of 'em?" asked Amelia, in a whisper.

"Why, Mr Heames, to be sure. Don't you go and have anythink to say to
the other one, Miss Mealyer, pray don't; he ain't no good; he ain't
indeed."

Amelia stood still for a moment on the landing, calculating whether
it would be well for her to have the interview, or well to decline
it. Her objects were two,--or, rather, her object was in its
nature twofold. She was, naturally, anxious to drive John Eames to
desperation; and anxious also, by some sligh