I will have dinner." The mother, whose embraces the child repelled with infantine kicks, plunged madly at the bells, rang them all four vehemently, and ran downstairs towards the parlour, whence Miss Honeyman was issuing.
The good lady had not at first known the names of her lodgers, but had taken them in willingly enough on Dr.Goodenough's recommendation.

And it was not until one of the nurses entrusted with the care of Master Alfred's dinner informed Miss Honeyman of the name of her guest, that she knew she was entertaining Lady Anne Newcome; and that the pretty girl was the fair Miss Ethel; the little sick boy, the little Alfred of whom his cousin spoke, and of whom Clive had made a hundred little drawings in his rude way, as he drew everybody.

Then bidding Sally run off to St.James's Street for a chicken--she saw it put on the spit, and prepared a bread sauce, and composed a batter-pudding as she only knew how to make batter-puddings.

Then she went to array herself in her best clothes, as we have seen,--as we have heard rather (Goodness forbid that we should see Miss Honeyman arraying herself, or penetrate that chaste mystery, her toilette!)--then she came to wait upon Lady Anne, not a little flurried as to the result of that queer interview; then she whisked out of the drawing-room as before has been shown; and, finding the chicken roasted to a turn, the napkin and tray ready spread by Hannah the neat-handed, she was bearing them up to the little patient when the frantic parent met her on the stair.
"Is it--is it for my child ?" cried Lady Anne, reeling against the bannister.
"Yes, it's for the child," says Miss Honeyman, tossing up her head.

"But nobody else has anything in the house." "God bless you--God bless you! A mother's bl-l-essings go with you," gurgled the lady, who was not, it must be confessed, a woman of strong moral character.
It was good to see the little man eating the fowl.