For a reason that I had, I felt as if my eyes would start out of my

head. I acknowledged his attention incoherently, and began to think this

was a dream.

"Dear me!" said Mr. Pocket, Junior. "This door sticks so!"

As he was fast making jam of his fruit by wrestling with the door while

the paper-bags were under his arms, I begged him to allow me to hold

them. He relinquished them with an agreeable smile, and combated with

the door as if it were a wild beast. It yielded so suddenly at last,

that he staggered back upon me, and I staggered back upon the opposite

door, and we both laughed. But still I felt as if my eyes must start out

of my head, and as if this must be a dream.

"Pray come in," said Mr. Pocket, Junior. "Allow me to lead the way. I am

rather bare here, but I hope you'll be able to make out tolerably well

till Monday. My father thought you would get on more agreeably through

to-morrow with me than with him, and might like to take a walk about

London. I am sure I shall be very happy to show London to you. As to our

table, you won't find that bad, I hope, for it will be supplied from our

coffee-house here, and (it is only right I should add) at your expense,

such being Mr. Jaggers's directions. As to our lodging, it's not by

any means splendid, because I have my own bread to earn, and my father

hasn't anything to give me, and I shouldn't be willing to take it, if he

had. This is our sitting-room,--just such chairs and tables and carpet

and so forth, you see, as they could spare from home. You mustn't give

me credit for the tablecloth and spoons and castors, because they come

for you from the coffee-house. This is my little bedroom; rather musty,

but Barnard's is musty. This is your bedroom; the furniture's hired for

the occasion, but I trust it will answer the purpose; if you should want

anything, I'll go and fetch it. The chambers are retired, and we shall

be alone together, but we shan't fight, I dare say. But dear me, I beg

your pardon, you're holding the fruit all this time. Pray let me take

these bags from you. I am quite ashamed."

As I stood opposite to Mr. Pocket, Junior, delivering him the bags, One,

Two, I saw the starting appearance come into his own eyes that I knew to

be in mine, and he said, falling back,-"Lord bless me, you're the prowling boy!"




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