“Rokesmith.”
“No, it ain’t!” cried Mrs. Boffin, clapping her hands, and shaking her head. “Not a bit of it.”
“Handford then,” suggested Bella.
“No, it ain’t!” cried Mrs. Boffin, again clapping her hands and shaking her head. “Not a bit of it.”
“At least, his name is John, I suppose?” said Bella.
“Ah! I should think so, deary!” cried Mrs. Boffin. “I should hope so! Many and many is the time I have called him by his name of John. But what’s his other name, his true other name? Give a guess, my pretty!”
“I can’t guess,” said Bella, turning her pale face from one to another.
“ I could,” cried Mrs. Boffin, “and what’s more, I did! I found him out, all in a flash as I may say, one night. Didn’t I, Noddy?”
“Ay! That the old lady did!” said Mr. Boffin, with stout pride in the circumstance.
“Harkee to me, deary,” pursued Mrs. Boffin, taking Bella’s hands between her own, and gently beating on them from time to time. “It was after a particular night when John had been disappointed—as he thought—in his affections. It was after a night when John had made an offer to a certain young lady, and the certain young lady had refused it. It was after a particular night, when he felt himself castaway-like, and had made up his mind to go seek his fortune. It was the very next night. My Noddy wanted a paper out of his Secretary’s room, and I says to Noddy, ‘I am going by the door, and I’ll ask him for it.’ I tapped at his door, and he didn’t hear me. I looked in, and saw him a sitting lonely by his fire, brooding over it. He chanced to look up with a pleased kind of smile in