Her tears fell frequently for Walter's sufferings; but rarely for his supposed death, and never long.
She had written to the old Instrument-maker, but had received no answer to her note: which indeed required none.

Thus matters stood with Florence on the morning when she was going home, gladly, to her old secluded life.
Doctor and Mrs Blimber, accompanied (much against his will) by their valued charge, Master Barnet, were already gone back to Brighton, where that young gentleman and his fellow-pilgrims to Parnassus were then, no doubt, in the continual resumption of their studies.

The holiday time was past and over; most of the juvenile guests at the villa had taken their departure; and Florence's long visit was come to an end.
There was one guest, however, albeit not resident within the house, who had been very constant in his attentions to the family, and who still remained devoted to them.

This was Mr Toots, who after renewing, some weeks ago, the acquaintance he had had the happiness of forming with Skettles Junior, on the night when he burst the Blimberian bonds and soared into freedom with his ring on, called regularly every other day, and left a perfect pack of cards at the hall-door; so many indeed, that the ceremony was quite a deal on the part of Mr Toots, and a hand at whist on the part of the servant.
Mr Toots, likewise, with the bold and happy idea of preventing the family from forgetting him (but there is reason to suppose that this expedient originated in the teeming brain of the Chicken), had established a six-oared cutter, manned by aquatic friends of the Chicken's and steered by that illustrious character in person, who wore a bright red fireman's coat for the purpose, and concealed the perpetual black eye with which he was afflicted, beneath a green shade.

Previous to the institution of this equipage, Mr Toots sounded the Chicken on a hypothetical case, as, supposing the Chicken to be enamoured of a young lady named Mary, and to have conceived the intention of starting a boat of his own, what would he call that boat?
The Chicken replied, with divers strong asseverations, that he would either christen it Poll or The Chicken's Delight.