his forehead and the great chronometer in his pocket, was incessantly oscillating between Florence on the sofa and his nephew in all parts of the parlour, "it's the most extraordinary-"

"No, but do, uncle, please-do, Miss Florence-dinner, you know, uncle,"

"Yes, yes, yes," cried Solomon, cutting instantly into a leg of mutton, as if he were catering for a giant. "I'll take care of her, Wally! I understand. Pretty dear! Famished, of course. You go and get ready. Lord bless me ! Sir Richard Whittington thrice Lord Mayor of London!"

Walter was not very long in mounting to his lofty garret and descending from it, but in the mean time Florence, overcome by fatigue, had sunk into a doze before the fire. The short interval of quiet, though only a few minutes in duration, enabled Solomon Gills so far to collect his wits as to make some little arrangements for her comfort, and to darken the room, and to screen her from the blaze. Thus, when the boy returned, she was sleeping peacefully.

"That's capital!" he whispered, giving Solomon such a hug that it squeezed a new expression into his face. "Now I'm off. I'll just take a crust of bread with me, for I'm very hungryand-don't wake her, Uncle Sol."

"Pretty child."

"No, no," said Solomon.
"Pretty, indeed!" cried Walter.

Uncle Sol. Now I'm off."

"I never saw such a face,

"That's right," said Solomon, greatly relieved.

"I say, Uncle Sol," cried Walter, putting his face in at the door.

"Here he is again," said Solomon.

"How does she look now?"

"Quite happy," said Solomon.

"That's famous! now I'm off.”

I hope you are," said Solomon to himself.

"I say, Uncle Sol," cried Walter, reappearing at the door. "Here he is again!" said Solomon.

"We met Mr. Carker the junior in the street, queerer than ever. He bade me good bye, but came behind us herethere's an odd thing!-for when we reached the shop door, I looked round, and saw him going quietly away, like a servant who had seen me home, or a faithful dog. How does she look now, uncle ?"

"Pretty much the same as before, Wally," replied Uncle Sol "That's right. Now I am off!”

And this time he really was: and Solomon Gills, with no appetite for dinner, sat on the opposite side of the fire, watching Florence in her slumber, building a great many airy castles of the most fantastic architecture; and looking in the dim shade, and in the close vicinity of all the instruments, like a magician disguised in a Welch wig and a suit of coffee colour, who held the child in an enchanted sleep.

In the meantime Walter proceeded towards Mr. Dombey's house at a pace seldom achieved by a hack horse from the stand; and yet with his head out of window every two or three minutes, in impatient remonstrance with the driver. Arriving at his journey's end, he leaped out, and breathlessly announcing his errand to the servant, followed him straight into the library, where there was a great confusion of tongues, and where Mr Dombey, his sister, and Miss Tox, Richards, and Nipper, were all congregated together.

"Oh! I beg your pardon, sir," said Walter, "but I'm happy to say it's all right, sir. found!"

ashing up to him, Miss Dombey's

The boy with his open face, and flowing air, and sparkling eyes, panting with pleasure and excitement, was wonderfully opposed to Mr. Dombey, as he sat confronting him in his library chair.

certainly be found," said shoulder at that lady,

"I told you, Louisa, that she would Mr. Dombey, looking slightly over his who wept in company with Miss Tox. "Let the servants know that no further steps are necessary. This boy who brings the information, is young Gay, from the office. How was my daughter found, sir? I know how she was lost." Here he looked majestically at Richards. "But how was she found?

who found her?"

"Why, I believe I found Miss Dombey, sir," said Walter modestly; "at least I don't know that I can claim the merit of having exactly found her, sir, but I was the fortunate instrument of-"

"What do you mean, sir," interrupted Mt. Dombey, regarding the boy's evident pride and pleasure in his share of the transaction with an instinctive dislike, "oy not having exactly found my daughter, and by being a fortunate instrument? Be plain and coherent, if you please."

It was quite out of Walter's power to be coherent; but he rendered himself as explanatory as he could, in his breathless state, and stated why he had come alone.

"You hear this, girl?" said Mr. Dombey sternly to the black

eyed "Take what is necessary, and return immediately with this young man to fetch Miss Florence home. Gay, you will be rewarded to-morrow."

"Oh! thank you, sir," said Walter. "You are very kind. I'm sure I was not thinking of any reward, sir."

"You are a boy," said Mr. Dombey, suddenly and almost fiercely; and what you think of, or affect to think of, is of little consequence. You have done well, sir. Don't undo it. Louisa, please to give the lad some wine."

Mr. Dombey's glance followed Walter Gay with sharp disfavour, as he left the room under the pilotage of Mrs. Chick; and it may be that his mind's eye followed him with no greater relish as he rode back to his uncle's with Miss Susan Nipper.

ease.

There they found that Florence, much refreshed by sleep, had dined, and greatly improved the acquaintance of Solomon Gills, with whom she was on terms of perfect confidence and The black-eyed (who had cried so much that she might now be called the red-eyed, and who was very silent and depressed) caught her in her arms without a word of contradiction or reproach, and made a very hysterical meeting of it. Then converting the parlour for the nonce, into a private tyring room, she dressed her, with great care, in proper clothes; and presently led her forth, as like a Dombey as her natural disqualifications admitted of her being made.

"Good night!" said Florence, running up to Solomon. "You have been very good to me.'

Old Sol was quite delighted, and kissed her like her grandfather.

"Good night, Walter! Good bye!" said Florence. "Good bye!" said Walter, giving both his hands.

"I'll never forget you," pursued Florence. "No! indeed I never will. Good bye, Walter !"

In the innocence of her grateful heart, the child lifted up her face to his. Walter, bending down his own, raised it again, all red and burning; and looked at Uncle Sol, quite sheepishly. "Where's Walter ?" Good night, Walter!" "Good bye, Walter !" "Shake hands, once more, Walter!" This was stili Florence's cry, after she was shut up with her little maid, in the coach. And when the coach at length moved off, Walter on the doorstep gaily returned the waving of her handkerchief, while the wooden midshipman behind him seemed, like himself, intent upon that coach alone, excluding all the other passing coaches from his observation.

In good time Mr. Dombey's mansion was gained again, and

again there was a noise of tongues in the library. Again, too, the coach was ordered to wait-"for Mrs. Richards," one of Susan's fellow-servants ominously whispered, as she passed with Florence.

The entrance of the lost child made a slight sensation, but not much. Mr. Dombey, who had never found her, kissed her once upon the forehead, and cautioned her not to run away again, or wander anywhere with treacherous attendants. Mrs. Chick stopped in her lamentations on the corruption of human nature, even when beckoned to the paths of virtue by a Charitable Grinder; and received her with a welcome something short of the reception due to none but perfect Dombeys. Miss Tox regulated her feelings by the models before her. Richards, the culprit Richards, alone poured out her heart in broken words of welcome, and bowed herself over the little wandering head as if she really loved it.

"Ah Richards!" said Mrs. Chick, with a sigh. "It would have been much more satisfactory to those who wish to think well of their fellow creatures, and much more becoming in you, if you had shown some proper feeling, in time, for the little child that is now going to be prematurely deprived of its natural nourishment."

"Cut off," said Miss Tox, in a plaintive whisper, "from one common fountain!"

"If it was my ungrateful case," said Mrs. Chick, solemnly, "and I had your reflections, Richards, I should feel as if the Charitable Grinders' dress would blight my child, and the edu cation choke him."

For the matter of that-but Mrs. Chick didn't know it--he had been pretty well blighted by the dress already; and as to the education, even its retributive effect might be produced in time, for it was a storm of sobs and blows.

"Louisa!" said Mr. Dombey. "It is not necessary to pro long these observations. The woman is discharged and paid. You leave this house, Richards, for taking my son-my son," said Mr. Dombey, emphatically repeating these two words, "into haunts and into society which are not to be thought of without a shudder. As to the accident which befel Miss Florence this morning, I regard that, as, in one great sense, a happy and fortunate circumstance; inasmuch as, but for that occurrence, I never could have known-and from your own lips too-of what you had been guilty. I think, Louisa, the other nurse, the young person," here Miss Nipper sobbed aloud, "being so much younger, and necessarily influenced by Paul's nurse,

may remain. Have the goodness to direct that this woman's coach is paid to-" Mr. Dombey stopped and winced-"to Staggs's Gardens."

Polly moved towards the door, with Florence holding to her dress, and crying to her in the most pathetic manner not to go away. It was a dagger in the haughty father's heart, an arrow in his brain, to see how the flesh and blood he could not disown clung to this obscure stranger, and he sitting by. Not that he cared to whom his daughter turned, or from whom turned away. The swift sharp agony struck through him, as he thought of what his son might do.

His son cried lustily that night, at all events. Sooth to say, poor Paul had better reason for his tears than sons of that age often have, for he had lost his second mother-his first, so far as he knew-by a stroke as sudden as that natural affliction which had darkened the beginning of his life. At the same blow, his sister too, who cried herself to sleep so mournfully, had lost as good and true a friend. But that is quite beside the question. Let us waste no words about it.

CHAPTER VII.

A Bird's-eye Glimpse of Miss Tox's Dwelling-place; also of the State of Miss Tox's Affections.

ISS TOX inhabited a dark little house that had been squeezed, at some remote period of English History, into a fashionable neighbourhood at the west end of the town, where it stood in the shade like a poor relation of the great street round the corner, coldly looked down upon by mighty mansions. It was not exactly in a court, and it was not exactly in a yard; but it was in the dullest of NoThoroughfares, rendered anxious and haggard by distant double knocks. The name of this retirement, where grass grew between the chinks in the stone pavement, was Princess's-place; and in Princess's-place was Princess's Chapel, with a tinkling bell, where sometimes as many as five-and-twenty people at tended service on a Sunday. The Princess's Arms was also there, and much resorted to by splendid footmen. A sedan chair was kept inside the railing before the Princess's Arms, but it had never come out, within the memory of man; and on fine