'Now, what's your business ?' 'The LASES to sign--the rent's all paid up.' 'Leases! Why, woman, is the possession given up ?' 'It was, PLASE your honour; and Mr.Dennis has the key of our little place in his pocket.' 'Then I hope he'll keep it there.

YOUR little place--it's no longer yours; I've promised it to the surveyor.

You don't think I'm such a fool as to renew to you at this rent.' 'Mr.Dennis named the rent.

But anything your honour PLASES--anything at all that we can pay.' 'Oh, it's out of the question--put it out of your head.

No rent you can offer would do, for I've promised it to the surveyor.' 'Sir, Mr.Dennis knows my lord gave us his promise in writing of a renewal, on the back of the OULD LASE.' 'Produce it.' 'Here's the LASE, but the promise is rubbed out.' 'Nonsense! coming to me with a promise that's rubbed out.