A rare moment of amusement lightened Melusine’s mood for a moment. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. “I can’t see what possible benefit can come of discussing things that are settled. The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. CHAPTER II.
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