48 THE HISTORY OF DAME MITCHELL

talking to a lad of fourteen, or thereabout, whose clothes were
in tatters, but whose countenance was open and sprightly.
Daddy Sharpphiz thought he remembered this funny old
woman, though he could not tell where he had seen her.
If he had been less moody and thoughtful, he would have
taken more time to recollect, but his wish to do away with
the cat completely occupied his attention ; so he went along,
with heavy brow, his head bent down, his arms crossed over
his breast, and his eyes fixed towards the earth, as if he
expected the wished-for accomplice to rise up before him.
He wandered along in this state for some time, and so much
had his evil passions inflamed him, that the morning breeze
fanned him without cooling his blood; nor could the sight
of the clear blue sky, or the singing of the birds, as they
chased one another along the banks of the stream, awaken
in him those calm and tender feelings, with which all good
people are inspired at the dawn of day.

When he returned, the old woman was gone; but her
juvenile companion was still at the same spot, sitting on a
post, and seemed to be scanning Lady Greenford’s mansion
with steadfast attention. Sharpphiz went up to him, and
addressed him in these terms:—

“What are you doing there, my lad?”

* Nothing at all; I am looking at that house.”

“That I could have told you; but why do you look
at it?”

“ Because I think it very grand, and should like to live
in it; how happy one must be inside of it!”—_-

“Why, yes,” replied the butler, emphatically ; “people
do live there very comfortably. Who was that woman you
_were speaking to just now ?”

“Tt was Mrs. Crustychin.”

“Mrs. Crustychin, the famous fortune-teller, who lives
yonder, at the other end of the street?”

“The very same.”

“Do you know her?”