She lived so close by that we had not time to have done humouring her for a few moments before she was at home.

Slipping us out at a little side gate, the old lady stopped most unexpectedly in a narrow back street, part of some courts and lanes immediately outside the wall of the inn, and said, "This is my lodging.

Pray walk up!" She had stopped at a shop over which was written KROOK, RAG AND BOTTLE WAREHOUSE.

Also, in long thin letters, KROOK, DEALER IN MARINE STORES.

In one part of the window was a picture of a red paper mill at which a cart was unloading a quantity of sacks of old rags.