by one sad idea, in her repetition of the phrase, walking up and

down, which testified to her possessing such a thing.

The corner has been mentioned as a wonderful corner for

echoes; it had begun to echo so resoundingly to the tread of

coming feet, that it seemed as though the very mention of that

weary pacing to and fro had set it going.

“Here they are!” said Miss Pross, rising to break up the

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conference; “and now we shall have hundreds of people pretty

soon!”

It was such a curious corner in its acoustical properties, such a

peculiar Ear of a place, that as Mr. Lorry stood at the open

window, looking for the father and daughter whose steps he heard,

he fancied they would never approach. Not only would the echoes

die away, as though the steps had gone; but, echoes of other steps

that never came would be heard in their stead, and would die

away for good when they seemed close at hand. However, father

and daughter did at last appear, and Miss Pross was ready at the

street door to receive them.

Miss Pross was a pleasant sight, albeit wild, and red, and grim,

taking off her darling’s bonnet when she came upstairs, and

touching it up with the ends of her handkerchief, and blowing the

dust off it, and folding her mantle ready for laying by, and

smoothing her rich hair with as much pride as she could possibly

have taken in her own hair if she had been the vainest and

handsomest of women. Her darling was a pleasant sight too,

embracing her and thanking her, and protesting against her

taking so much trouble for herwhich last she only dared to do

playfully, or Miss Pross, sorely hurt, would have retired to her own

chamber and cried. The Doctor was a pleasant sight too, looking

on at them, and telling Miss Pross how she spoilt Lucie, in accents

and with eyes that had as much spoiling in them as Miss Pross

had, and would have had more if it were possible. Mr. Lorry was a

pleasant sight too, beaming at all this in his little wig, and

thanking his bachelor stars for having lighted him in his declining

years to a Home. But, no Hundreds of people came to see the

sights, and Mr. Lorry looked in vain for the fulfilment of Miss

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Pross’s prediction.

Dinner-time, and still no Hundreds of people. In the

arrangements of the little household, Miss Pross took charge of the

lower regions, and always acquitted herself marvellously. Her

dinners, of a very modest quality, were so well cooked and so well

served, and so neat in their contrivances, half English and half

French, that nothing could be better. Miss Pross’s friendship

being of the thoroughly practical kind, she had ravaged Soho and

the adjacent provinces, in search of impoverished French, who,

tempted by shillings and half-crowns, would impart culinary

mysteries to her. From these decayed sons and daughters of Gaul,

she had acquired such wonderful arts, that the woman and girl