a provision on her, and, through her, on myself, why, of course
the old man should share the benefit of it. And now that these infernal
pains often keep me awake half the night, I can't always shut out the
idea of that old man wandering about the world, and dying in a ditch.
And that runaway girl--to whom, I dare swear, he would give away his
last crumb of bread--ought to be an annuity to us both: Basta, basta! As
to the American story--I had a friend at Paris, who went to America on
a speculation; I asked him to inquire about this Willaim Waife and his
granddaughter Sophy, who were said to have sailed for New York nearly
five years ago, and he saw the very persons--settled in New York--no
longer under the name of Waife, but their true name of Simpson, and got
out from the man that they had been induced to take their passage from
England in the name of Waife, at the request of a person whom the mail
would not-give up, but to whom he said he was under obligations. Perhaps
the old gentleman had done the fellow a kind turn in early life. The
description of this _soi-disant_ Waife and his grandchild settles the
matter--wholly unlike those I seek; so that there is every reason to
suppose they must still be in England, and it is your business to find
them. Continue your search--quicken your wits--let me be better pleased
with your success when I call again this day week--and meanwhile four
pounds, if you please--as much more as you like."

"Why, I gave you four pounds the other day, besides six pounds for
clothes; it can't be gone."

"Every penny."

"Dear, dear! can't you maintain yourself anyhow? Can't you get any one
to play at cards? Four pounds! Why, with your talent for whist, four
pounds are a capital!"

"Whom can I play with! Whom can I herd with? Cracksmen and pickpockets.
Fit me out; ask me to your own house; invite your own friends; make up a
rubber, and you will then see what I can do with four pounds; and may go
shares if you like, as we used to do."

"Don't talk so loud. Losely, you know very well that what you ask is
impossible. I've turned over a new leaf."

"But I've still got your handwriting on the old leaf."

"What's the good of these stupid threats? If you really wanted to do me
a mischief, where could you go to, and who'd believe you?"

"I fancy your wife would. I'll try. Hillo--"

"Stop--stop--stop. No row here, sir. No scandal. Hold your tongue, or
I'll send for the police."

"Do! Nothing I