By this time Miss Abbey’s eyes had possessed themselves of the small figure of Miss Jenny Wren. For the closer observation of which, Miss Abbey laid aside her newspaper, rose, and looked over the half-door of the bar. The crutch-stick seemed to entreat for its owner leave to come in and rest by the fire; so, Miss Abbey opened the half-door, and said, as though replying to the crutch-stick:

“Yes, come in and rest by the fire.”

“My name is Riah,” said the old man, with courteous action, “and my avocation is in London city. This, my young companion⁠—”

“Stop a bit,” interposed Miss Wren. “I’ll give the lady my card.” She produced it from her pocket with an air, after struggling with the gigantic door-key which had got upon the top of it and kept it down. Miss Abbey, with manifest tokens of astonishment, took the diminutive document, and found it to run concisely thus:⁠—