legs, and continuing a conversation, the commencement of which Fagin had arrived too late to hear. ‘No more jolly old coffins, Charlotte, but a gentleman’s life for me: and, if yer like, yer shall be a lady.’

‘I should like that well enough, dear,’ replied Charlotte; ‘but tills ain’t to be emptied every day, and people to get clear off after it.’

‘Tills be blowed!’ said Mr. Claypole; ‘there’s more things besides tills to be emptied.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked his companion.

‘Pockets, women’s ridicules, houses, mail-coaches, banks!’ said Mr. Claypole, rising with the porter.