We soon found the chandler's shop.

In it was a good-natured-looking old woman with a dropsy, or an asthma, or perhaps both.
"Neckett's children ?" said she in reply to my inquiry.

"Yes, Surely, miss.

Three pair, if you please.

Door right opposite the stairs." And she handed me the key across the counter.
I glanced at the key and glanced at her, but she took it for granted that I knew what to do with it.