'Yes, my dear,' cried Trotty; 'and they'd be very
fond of any one of us that did know 'em all. He'd
grow fat upon the work he'd get, that man, and be
popular with the gentle-folks in his neighbourhood.
Very much so!'

   'He'd eat his dinner with an appetite, whoever he
was, if it smelt like this,' said Meg, cheerfully
'Make haste, for there's a hot potato besides. and half
a pint of fresh-drawn beer in a bottle. Where will
you dine, father? On the Post, or on the Steps?
Dear, dear, how grand we are. Two places to choose
from!'

 'The steps to-day, my Pct,' said Trotty. 'Steps in
dry weather. Post in wet. There's a greater con-
veniency in the steps at all times, because of the sit-
ting down; but they're rheumatic in the damp.

  'Then here,' said Meg, clapping her hands, after a
moment's bustle; 'here it is, all ready! And beautiful
it looks! Come, father. Come!'

  Since his discovery of the contents of the basket,
Trotty had been standing looking at her -- and had
been speaking too -- in an abstracted manner, which
showed that though she was the object of his thoughts
and eyes, to the exclusion even of tripe, he neither saw
nor thought about her as she was at that moment, but
had before him some imaginary rough sketch or
drama of her future life. Roused, now, by her cheer-
ful summons, he shook off a melancholy shake of the
head which was just coming upon him, and trotted to
her side. As she was stooping to sit down, the Chimes
rang.

  'Amen!' said Trotty, pulling off his hat and look-
ing up towards them.

  'Amen to the Bells, father?' cried Meg.

  'They broke in like a grace, my dear,' said Trotty,
taking his seat. 'They'd say a good one, I am sure,
if they could. Many's the kind thing they say to
me.'

  'The Bells do, father!' laughed Meg, as she set the
basin, and a knife and fork before him. 'Well!'

  'Seem to, my Pet,' said Trotty, falling to with
great vigour. 'And where's the difference? If I
hear 'em, what does it matter whether they speak it
or not? Why bless you, my dear,' said Toby, point-
ing at the tower with his fork, and becoming more
animated under the influence of dinner, 'how often
have I heard them bells say "Toby Veck, Toby Veck,
keep a good heart, Toby! Toby Veck, Toby Veck,
keep a good heart, Toby!" A million times? More!'

  'Well, I never!' cried Meg.

  She had, though -- over and over again. For it was
Toby's constant topic.

  'When things is very bad,' said Trotty; 'very bad
indeed, I mean; almost at the worst; then it's "Toby
Veck, Toby Veck, job coming soon, Toby! Toby
Veck, Toby Veck, job coming soon, Toby! That
way.'

  'And it comes -- at last, father,' said Meg, with a
touch of sadness in her pleasant voice.

  'Always,' answered the unconscious Toby. 'Never
fails.'

  While this discourse was holding, Trotty made no
pause in his attack upon the savoury meat before
him, but cut and ate, and cut and drank, and cut and
chewed, and dodged about, from tripe to hot potato,
and from hot potato back again to tripe, with an
unctuous and unflagging relish. But happening now
to look all round the street -- in case anybody should
be beckoning from any door or window, for a porter --
his eyes, in coming back again, encountered Meg; sit-
ting opposite to him, with her arms folded: and
only busy in watching his progress with a smile of
bappiness.

  'Why, Lord forgive me!' said Trotty, dropping his
knife and fork. 'My dove! Meg! Why didn't you
tell me what a beast I was?'

  'Father?'

  'Sitting here,' said Trotty, in penitent explanation,
'cramming, and stuffing, and gorging myself; and
you before me there, never so much as breaking your
precious fast, not wanting to, when --'