collector, called one morning for the poor's rates due from Mrs.
Squallop, and drained her of almost every penny of ready money which she
had by her. This threw the good woman upon her resources to replenish
her empty pocket--and down she came upon Titmouse--or rather, up she
went to him; for his heart sank within him, one night on his return from
the shop, having only just taken off his hat and lit his candle, as he
heard the fat old termagant's well-known heavy step ascending the
stairs, and approaching nearer and nearer to his door. Her loud
imperative single knock vibrated through his very heart.

"Oh, Mrs. Squallop! How d'ye do, Mrs. Squallop?" commenced Titmouse,
faintly, when he had opened the door; "Won't you take a chair?" with
trepidation offering to the panting dame almost the only chair he had.

"No--I a'n't come to stay, Mr. Titmouse, because, d'ye see, in coorse
you've got a pound, _at least_, ready for me, as you promised long
ago--and never more welcome; there's old Gripe been here to-day, and had
his hodious rates--(drat the poor, say I! them as can't work should
starve!--rates is a robbery!)--but howsomdever he's cleaned _me_ out
to-day; so, in coorse, I come up to _you_. Got it, Mr. Titmouse?"

"I--I--I--'pon my life, Mrs. Squallop, I'm uncommon sorry"----

"Oh, bother your sorrow, Mr. Titmouse!--out with the needful, for I
can't stop palavering here."

"I--I can't, so help me----!" gasped Titmouse, with the calmness of
desperation.

"You can't! And marry, sir, why not, may I make bold to ask?" inquired
Mrs. Squallop, after a moment's pause, striving to choke down her rage.

"P'r'aps you can get blood out of a stone, Mrs. Squallop; it's what _I_
can't," replied Titmouse, striving to screw his courage up to the
sticking place, to encounter one who was plainly bent upon mischief.
"I've got two shillings--there they are," throwing them on the table;
"and cuss me if I've another rap in the world; there, ma'am! take 'em,
do; and drive me desperate!"

"You're a liar, then, that's flat!" exclaimed Mrs. Squallop, slapping
her hand upon the table, with a violence that made the candle quiver on
it, and almost fall down. "_You_ have the _himperance_," said she,
sticking her arms akimbo, and commencing the address she had been
preparing in her own mind ever since Mr. Gripe had quitted her house,
"to stand there and tell me you've got nothing in the world but them
_two shillings_! Heugh! Out on you, you