It was most amusing. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. He was instantly overpowered, and stretched upon the ground. ’” She played “If I Were a Rich Man,” adding syrupy trills and flourishes at every phrase. Neither Charvill nor his heir know anything of your presence in England. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. Having once more got into the chimney, he climbed to a level with the ward above, and recommenced operations as vigorously as before. But, be like a son to her.
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