meaning “Old Nick’s.”

“Ha!” said Miss Pross, “it doesn’t need an interpreter to explain

the meaning of these creatures. They have but one, and it’s

Midnight Murder, and Mischief.” “Hush, dear! Pray, pray, be

cautious!” cried Lucie.

“Yes, yes, yes, I’ll be cautious,” said Miss Pross; “but I may say

among ourselves, that I do hope there will be no oniony and

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tobaccoy smotherings in the form of embracings all round, going

on in the streets. Now, Ladybird, never you stir from that fire till I

come back! Take care of the dear husband you have recovered,

and don’t move your pretty head from his shoulder as you have it

now, till you see me again! May I ask a question, Doctor Manette,

before I go?”

“I think you may take that liberty,” the Doctor answered,

smiling.

“For gracious sake, don’t talk about Liberty; we have quite

enough of that,” said Miss Pross.

“Hush, dear! Again?” Lucie remonstrated.

“Well, my sweet,” said Miss Pross, nodding her head

emphatically, “the short and the long of it is, that I am a subject of

His Most Gracious Majesty King George the Third”; Miss Pross

curtseyed at the name; “and as such, my maxim is, Confound their

politics, Frustrate their knavish tricks, On him our hopes we fix,

God save the King!”

Mr. Cruncher in an access of loyalty, growlingly repeated the

words after Miss Pross, like somebody at church.

“I am glad you have so much of the Englishman in you, though

I wish you had never taken that cold in your voice,” said Miss

Pross, approvingly. “But the question, Doctor Manette. Is there”

it was the good creature’s way to affect to make light of anything

that was a great anxiety with them all, and to come at it in this

chance manner“is there any prospect yet, of our getting out of

this place?”

“I fear not yet. It would be dangerous for Charles yet.”

“Heigh-ho-hum!” said Miss Pross, cheerfully repressing a sigh

as she glanced at her darling’s golden hair in the light of the fire,

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“then we must have patience and wait; that’s all. We must hold up

our heads and fight low, as my brother Solomon used to say. Now,

Mr. Cruncher!Don’t you move, Ladybird!”

They went out, leaving Lucie, and her husband, her father and

the child, by a bright fire. Mr. Lorry was expected back presently

from the Banking House. Miss Pross had lighted the lamp, but had

put it aside in a corner, that they might enjoy the fire-light

undisturbed. Little Lucie sat by her grandfather with her hands

clasped through his arm: and he, in a tone not rising much above a

whisper, began to tell her a story of a great and powerful Fairy

who had opened a prison wall and let out a captive who had once

done the Fairy a service. All was subdued and quiet, and Lucie